Chronicles of Drakmoon
by abstow89
Summary: The story of a werewolf named Wolf who joins the Lycan race in the 24th century, where vampires, werepyres, and werewolves still exsit.
1. Prologue

**Chronicles of Drakmoon**

Okay, I'll try to summarize this as shortly as I possibly can. This takes place in the 24th century, so characters from Adventure Quest are merely mentioned. Werepyres and other creatures are still flourishing, but their new HQs are in the Drakmoon forest on Planet Mars.

The main character's name is Wolf (go figure; he's a wolf). He spends his life at a bar now because of the horrible actions that took place a few months ago.

Wolfwing and all the other Darkovia characters you know and love are dead or gone and new rulers occupy the forest and go by a different set of rules. They also carry guns and attack like they were in modern-day warfare. Dragons and other fable-like creatures are located around Mars too.

**This story is M Rated for strong language, dark humor, toilet humor, and violence and gore.**

...Yeah, sorry for the long introduction. 

**Prologue  
1:20 a.m., **

**Three months after the previous events**

(Wolf's Point-of-View)

Here I sit alone in this nameless bar. It's the same bar, same place….same people. I keep asking myself why I constantly come here. There's nothing to do here, not even get drunk. Maybe I'm amused by the other nameless faces waltzin' around, drinking until they vomit in the back alley and pass out. …Maybe I don't want to remind myself of those days in San Francisco. I don't know. I can't go back to my old job, so what do I do? What the fuck do I do now? I…I just don't know anymore. Until I figure it out, I'll just sit here, in this nameless bar with the same people and same methods….

(end Wolf's POV)

**Somewhere in Drakmoon Forest…**

One of the darkest places in the world…no, strike that. One of the darkest places on _Mars_, there was a forest named Drakmoon. It's one of the places you'll find the scariest and deadliest creatures around. No, not the martians--all the rumors about the probing and conquest invasions were pure bologna. No, there were other creatures that could scare the hair off a tiger or panther there. One of the primary ones is the werepyres. If anyone asks, they're just what they sound like: a combination of werewolf and vampire. Imagine walking at night and running into a hairy beast that was probably a foot or two…or five taller than you. Imagine seeing wings, each three to 4 feet tall and nearly just as wide. Imagine a set of exposed yellow fangs and teeth, a hulking frame ready to launch at you, and you not knowing if it wants to transform you into its kind, or if it wants you for a midnight snack. …It's something that make you want to soil yourself or cry in the fetal position. Indeed, it was these kinds of creatures that ruled a main faction of Drakmoon forest.

Another fraction of it was the Vampires. Nothing new here, large fangs, giant wings and fearful of sunlight. Of course, that doesn't mean you shouldn't take these guys lightly. These are probably the stealthiest guys out of the other three. One minute, you could be a normal human being, next you could have large fangs in your mouth and realize you skin is burning as you stand in the sun.

The next fraction is the werewolves. Despite being large and extremely noticeable, they have some advantage. For one, they won't burst into ash during the day and they're strength wise stronger than Vampires. Although they are easily damaged by fire and again, are easily noticeable. If that's not all, a few can go insane if they stare at the moon too long, increasing their size almost to become twice as big.

The last race is known as Dracopyres. Forget werepyres, vampires, and werewolves; dracopyres beat them all. Not only are they a werepyre, but they somehow managed to infuse themselves with draconic blood, increasing their power almost tenfold. Walk up into the sky and you'll probably see something flying in the sky. Maybe it's a crow or a vampire….or a giant mosquito. But if it's a dracopyre, bury yourself under the soil or hide in a grave. That's the only way to have even a slight chance of avoiding them. If you do encounter one, several bad things will happen. They'll eat you, bite off your head, burn you with their fire breath, and on rare cases, urinate on you as a practical joke. Hell, certain people had heart attacks and died just because they saw one. They've literally scared people to death. The only problem with dracopyres is that there are very few of them. …Which is why they frequently converge all other three races into their kind. One bite or scratch in a vulnerable area and you're done for. Of course, other kinds of creatures that reside in or near Drakmoon Forest, like dragons, golems, and other sorts of deadly creatures.

Anyway, right now, some guy was walking through Drakmoon Forest in order to deliver something very important to someone. He was a courier who only went by the name Wilk. So there he was, walking alone and unprotected in a spooky dark forest. All he had was a standard Glock 18 in his pocket. Wilk heard a twig snap and turned around to see nothing.

"Shit. Stop scaring yourself, there's nothing in these woods. They were all just…stories."

Something big flew over Wilk, but with no shadow to cast, he didn't manage to look up.

"Geez, where is this stupid fortress anyway?"

"What's in the package?"

"Whuh? Oh nothing. It's just few gadgets from--who am I talking too?!" The figure, which landed right in front of him lashed out at him, sending him near a tree. Wilk immediately took out his gun and fired multiple times.

"That won't help a thing mortal. We're immune to those types of bullets." The gun was kicked out his hand and a massive foot came crushing down on his torso. Wilk could see better now with a bit of moonlight to help him. It was a werepyre, wearing a dark yellow shirt with a vertical red stripe going down the center.

"What're you doing here human?"

"I don't have to answer you!"

"So…we've got a feisty one. Usually, humans like you tend to runs away or even crap their pants. But I guess not every human is the same."

"That's right."

"I mean, I like humans fried, sautéed, rotten, with a side of blood, ground humans, shredded human muscles in a taco, human sandwiches--" Wilk lost control of his bladder and peed himself, causing the werepyre to smile at his weakness.

"What's in the package?"

"I can't--"

The werepyre got irritated and slammed Wilk against the tree, holding his throat with one of his hands. "You listen to me, mortal! You have no idea how much trouble you're in for trespassing!! Now if you tell me why you're here, I won't hunt down your family and burn their scalps alive. So I ask you: what's in the package?!"

"WHOO!!" said Wilk, holding his nose and waving his hand in front of it. "Man, you got some nasty stank breath."

The werepyre wasn't exactly insulted, but he did manage to get angry long for him to rip Wilk's nose off.

"THERE! Now you got nothing to smell!"

"Jesus Christ! It was just a fucking joke!"

"Let's try this one last time: WHAT'S IN THE FUCKING PACKAGE?!"

"A bomb! Parts of a bomb!"

"What?"

"He--he wanted me to deliver bomb parts to your fortress."

"I don't get it."

"When you assembled it, it'd blow up in your faces and kill you. Why else would he be giving you a free bomb?"

The werepyre let Wilk go and pondered about what he just heard. Were the other races really smart or just plain stupid? If he hadn't been flying the skies then Wilk would've made it to their fortress. Then again, maybe not. He wasn't exactly sure what to do.

"Can I go now?" The werepyre looked at Wilk and smiled.

* * *

The werepyre strolled into his leader's room, dropping Wilk's body on his table. He looked like every other common werepyre. He wore a tattered red shirt, brown shorts with a belt to go with it. Although part of his wings were red, unlike normal werepyres.

"How many times are you gonna do that?"

"What? Drop a skinless body right at your feet? Maybe you'll be happier to know that those stinking werewolves tried to sabotage us…again." The werepyre dropped the ripped open package on the table as well.

"I don't get it Howlblane. Why send some crony to bomb this place instead of just putting it through the chimney?"

"Does it really matter? You already know what we have to do for this insulting excuse for trying to kill us."

"Damnit Howlblane, I've been waiting so long to hear you say this."

"Keep waiting. We're not going to war yet?"

"Wh…why not?"

"If we go now, chances are the other races will catch wind of it and try to stop us first. Next thing you know, we got an all out war with every race. Despite the fact we won last time, we suffered waaaaay too many casualties. I'm not making the same mistake again."

"What do you propose we do then?"

Howlblane thought for a little bit and said, "I hear that SOWAS colonel werewolf named Rofts and his soldiers are hunting some danglits in the woods. It'd be a shame if there were some sort of 'accident' during that time._"_

"I'll get right on it."

"Oh, and the next time you skin some alive, you better save me some."

"…Yes sir."

**To be Continued...**

This is gonna be a very, very, very long story with several twists.


	2. First Blood Spilled

**Chronicles of Drakmoon**

**1  
****First Blood Spilled**

The new leader of the Werepyres, Howlblane, orders a hit on Rofts, one of the Werewolves' SOWAS colonels. And if anyone asks, SOWAS stands for Special Ops. Werepyre Assassin Squad 

"How come I have to do this?"

"You kept begging me you wanted to see some action tonight. Now you get to kill a SOWAS colonel Scowlblane." said Howlblane.

Scowlblane was Howlblane's little brother. He wore a gray t-shirt and black shorts. Unlike Howl, part of his wings weren't red.

"Just a colonel? Why not a general or their leader Kingswerst himself?"

"It's no good to us just lopping off the top. Besides, Kingswerst is too dangerous for you to hunt down now."

"Stop worrying so much."

"I'm your big brother. It's my job to worry about you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just let me bag this piece of werewolf scum so we can pee on his grave."

Although somewhat vulgar and a little disturbing, Howlblane still smiled at the comment. If there was one person he could count on, it would be Scowlblane. If there was one person he could confide with, it'd be Scowlblane. If there was one person who'd cheer him up by making cheap fart jokes or playing pranks amongst his fellow werepyres, it'd be Scowlblane.

**3:24 a.m.**

Scowl was equipped with standard SWAS (Senior Werewolf Assassination Squad) weapons: a fire knife with a fiercely hot edge, a standard 1911, customized to their liking with red hot fire bullets, a Mossberg 500 shotgun with fire bullets, and of course, grenades. Some even tend to bring AUGs and AK-47s during brutal situations.

"How hard is it to find an Alpha Werewolf colonel in the middle of the woods? I'd probably smell him before I saw him!" muttered Scowlblane to himself.

It was at that time that he did see him and his squad around a fire roasting some of the meat they found. It was only a small squad of seven, all of whom were werewolf warriors except Rofts himself. The warriors usually wear chest armor and what looked like metal knee pads while Alpha werewolves wore shoulder, knee and elbow pads. Many of them also wear shorts or pants and a shirt. Rofts is a member of SOWAS, which stands for Special Ops. Werepyre Assassination Squad. He wears a blue shirt, pads and black pants. Many of the werewolves in their race like to personalize and allow access to certain places by the various scents. Like Rofts for instance. He smears this special type of fungus combined with mud to allow access to his personal quarters back at the werewolf fortress. Sure, his feet smell horrible because of it, but then again, many werewolves have big smelly feet. Besides, it's a very easy way to mark a trail in case he gets captured or lost. One of the werewolves shot an arrow at a danglit.

"How many is that now?" asked one of them.

"Twelve." responded Rofts. He laughed. "We're gonna have a hefty breakfast today, aren't we boys?"

"That's right."

"Yep."

"Danglits taste soooo good! Especially when you fry it with a side of boar's intestines and some spices sprinkled on top."

"Yeah or when you cube it and throw it into boiling blood from a camel and add some Lycan berries with it."

Rofts growled passionately at the thought and added, "Yes. And let's not forget when they're stuffed in a carack shell and boiled till it's blue so it's makes that chewy-crunchy sound when all those juices just seep into your mouth, penetrating every taste bud on your tongue."

Two of the wolves licked their lips and Rofts' mouth began to hang open, drool seeping out both sides.

One of then laughed and said, "You better hurry with that meat; Rofts looks like he's gonna pass out!"

"I'll get the berries." said another.

One of the werewolves scouted alone with a fire tipped machete, swatting away all the leaves and twigs in the bushes. Suddenly the smell of Werepyre fur filled his nostrils and he stopped momentarily. As soon as he realized he was in danger, Scowlblane hopped from a tree and kicked him in the back. He clamped his mouth shut and took his machete, stabbing him twice in the back of the neck.

**3:40 a.m.**

Rofts' stomach growled so loudly it sounded like it hurt. "Where the hell are those berries?!" Now he was starting to get angry.

"I don't know. Didn't--"

"Just go find some. Now!!"

Another werewolf walked into the woods, only to be snatched behind a bush and get stabbed twice.

Rofts growled. "What was that?" he muttered, holding up a Glock 18.

"Someone's stalking us."

Another werewolf yelled as he was snatched up into a tree, firing seven bullets from his AK-47. Now everyone was fully alert, pulling out there guns and knives.

"What do you think: dracopyre, vampire, or werepyre?"

Rofts sniffed the air twice and growled, "Werepyre."

"Yeah, you're right. This guy stinks of were-vamp blood."

"Be on your guard." he advised.

Another werewolf made a gurgling groaning sound and fell down…without a head.

"Come out you coward!! Show your face and fight like the fellow werewolf you used to be!!"

"….If you say so." whispered Scowlblane. He jumped down toward the campsite and confronted the last three werewolves.

"I knew you were here. I could smell your werepyre blood in the trees."

"Have to say the same for you. Only, your foul stench is displeasing to everyone."

One of the werewolves sniffed their armpits and tried to fan the smell away, and then said, "You can smell that?!"

"Go get him boys."

The last two werewolf warriors attacked Scowlblane, charging at them with swords. But Scowlblane was too fast for them. He sliced both of the creatures in the chest in a few seconds, before they even attacked.

"Fine then." said Rofts, unsheathing a sword and MP5. "Let's do this."

They both charged at each other, with Rofts making the first two clangs at Scowl's sword. He then fired multiple bullets at Scowl, but he jumped into the air and dodged them all. Suddenly, he came back down and a violent sword fight began. Scowl managed to hit Rofts once, but he was still on the offensive. Scowl took out his 1911 and fired it at Rofts twice in the stomach. He immediately cut Scowl's wing just as he took off again.

"You see? Us Lycans are--wait…'we Lycans?' Yeah--we Lycans are tougher than you! We don't run away in fear even when in trouble or outnumbered!"

"Who said I was running?"

Scowlblane cocked his shotgun and fired a round at Rofts. His body was almost sent flying, but Rofts kept his ground and was still standing. Another shotgun burst. Now Rofts was truly hurt; one of the bullets from the shell hit him in the face. He angrily threw his sword, which amazingly hit Scowlblane in the torso, causing him to fall out the tree.

Rofts painfully limped over to Scowlblane, who looked like he was done for. He put his oversized foot on him and aimed his gun at him. Scowlblane still managed to pull out a knife, causing him to laugh.

"You know, we may not be smarter than you werepyres, but we're still tougher than you. And at least we know not to pull out a knife in a gunfight."

Just as he was about to fire, the knife Scowlblane had shot out a blade right into Rofts' throat, severing his carotid arteries. Two bullets fired into the air as Rofts body pitched backward. A cut-off death rattle and gurgle sound was the last thing coming out of his mouth before landing on the pile of branches and dead leaves. Scowlblane stood up, pulled out the sword, and flatly said, "Ow."

Scowlblane looked over all the bodies, wondering what he should do with them. "What's that sm--" He sniffed near Rofts' toes and quickly retracted his head, groaning in disgust at his foot odor.

"Umm…maybe I'll just leave the bodies." Scowlblane quickly retreated to his lair.

**4:32 a.m.**

"Did you get him?"

"Yeah I got him. You coulda gave me a heads up on his stinky feet though!"

Howlblane chuckled. "Well, at least that's one pair of footsies that won't be stinkin' up our forest."

"You didn't want me to bring the bodies, did you?"

"No. Why feast on Lycan flesh when there are so many other 'victims' in the woods? Besides, I want Kingswerst to know what happened. Let him try and figure out who killed them."

**6:45 a.m.**

"Damnit!" said Kingswerst, pounding his fists on a table. "I told him not to hunt those fucking danglits!"

Kingswerst is the leader of the Lycan race. He's around 250 years old, very tall and bulky (as he is an Alpha Werewolf) and tall. His fur is black, unlike many other werewolves and he wears a dark red shirt with two thick green stripes going down vertically on both sides. He's also wearing those pads which are colored green.

"You have to admit, they do taste good inside a carack's shell."

"Shut up, Harmft! We just lost one of our greatest SOWAS leaders. The kind other SOWAS leaders look up to."

"So…we should go to war then?"

"YES!!"

"Alright then."

Kingswerst thought for a moment and suddenly said, "Hold on a minute. That's exactly what they want us to do."

"I don't get it."

"What's not to get? They want us to go to war and trap us when we least expect it."

"So what? The werepyres lost thousands if not hundreds of thousands of lives the last war!"

"So did us. And we lost."

"Okay then. What are we going to do then?"

"Nothing yet. Let's just….play things out a little longer and strike our real enemies first."

"The vampires."

"Yes. We need to strike back at them. Let them know who's running the show. I hear their activities have been rising in the last few weeks. That needs to stop as soon as possible."

"What about Rofts and his men? Should they have a proper burial or shall we just get rid of the bodies?"

"How dare you ask such a thing like that! Of course they're gonna have proper burials! Just like many other funerals we've planned for our fallen Lycan brethren."

"I understand."


	3. Redeemer

**Chronicles of Drakmoon**

Wolf gets a visit from a Werewolf warrior and must decide if he wants to join the Lycan Brotherhood.

**2  
****Redeemer  
****8:24 a.m.**

(Wolf's Point-of-View)

The skylight coming from the window forced me to open my eyes. It was cloudy and hot, like many days that have passed over the past weeks. Usually I'd wake up staring at the ceiling, but instead, there was a wolf sitting next to my bed. It was very awkward. A brown wolf in tattered yellow clothing with these weird pads and armor on.

"You know you snore like an ox-rast when you sleep?"

"Who the 'ell are you?"

"Relax. Just a fellow werewolf looking out for another fellow werewolf, that's all."

"Get out of my bedroom."

"I'm pretty sure you already know this, but you're a werewolf or Lycan as we like to say."

"No shit. I don't know how you knew that, but yes."

"How'd I know? I can smell the Alpha werewolf lodged in your body. Real nasty one too. I'm guessing you don't want it to get out at the wrong time and wreck havoc, do you?" I didn't answer him.

"Well, this is why you need to become a Lycan. You're already a wolf; you're already a werewolf. That's a plus in our book. All you need is the training, the kills, and the loyalty to your Lycan brotherhood."

He stood up. "Let me ask you something: do you enjoy killing? I mean, have you ever killed someone and tell yourself it was worth it…and actually mean it?"

I had a brief moment where I thought about the wolf I shot in the head many weeks ago. "Yes."

"Then you're already set to join us then. I mean, you can handle a little pain, right?"

"I can handle more pain than you can imagine."

"Good."

And it was at that time that my fate seemed to be sealed. I don't know what I'll find by following this guy, but it doesn't sound like such a bad idea.

"You don't mind space travel, do you?"

"...What?"

**Two days later…**

It took us two longs days to travel to Mars and find this Lycan stronghold in the middle of what's called Drakmoon Forest. I don't understand why it's always dark here, or why the soil isn't red as I thought it usually was. The fortress seemed complex from the outside and I caught a glance of a graveyard out in the distance.

"When you get inside, talk to Margost-Lyl. He's the big yellow furred Alpha werewolf with black clothing and grey pads."

"What about you?"

The werewolf held out an odd looking sword and said, "I gotta go slay some vampires. Later."

Huh. Never got his name. Anyway, I strolled inside the HQ and was amazed at how complex and complicated…and filthy it was. I know it's the 24th century, but you gotta admit, something this advanced on Mars is cool. I quickly located Margost-Lyl pacing back and forth with what looks like a bunch of trainees.

"Are you Margost--"

"Get in line worm!!"

I rushed to the line of werewolves and stood straight. …Suddenly I think I just joined the army.

Margost paced a little and suddenly said, "So all you punks think you have what it takes to slay your own vampire and collect its head." He scoffed.

"Like that's ever gonna happen. You're all weak! Pathetic and spineless!! …But that's why I'm here. All you pups are gonna become full-grown werewolves by the end of this training course. This is not boot camp; this is not the army or the marines. This pure, grade-A hardcore, battleground horror shit!! Three of you seven are gonna die in two months. Five won't even last two years here. Your deaths will be mourned and you'll have funerals and so on and so forth. But what you have to realize that you must kill, bleed, and even die for your fellow Lycan race!!"

One of the werewolves chuckled and muttered, "This sounds a lot like the army."

"If you wanted to join the army son, you'd need a pair of balls. As far as I can tell you don't have any!"

I chuckled, along with a few others. "SHUT YOUR MOUTHS!!" Everyone abruptly went silent.

"So…I guess before you can start your training and all, you might as well get to know me. My name is Margost-Lyl. I'm 110 years old and I grew up not far from Drakmoon Forest. As far as I know, my parents were betrayed by a band of renegade Lycans, which is probably why I'm so tough on you all the time. Anyway, back to basics. This is not school; there is running in the hallways, shouting in the rooms and basically everything else you can do here you can't do in school."

"Awesome."

"I'm not finished yet! We do have some sort of rules and regulations for this race that you WILL obey!

Number 1: You must defeat one of each member of our nemesis in order to further yourself into the Lycan form you're desired to become. Whether it's a vampire, a werepyre, or even a goddamn dracopyre, you gotta kill something of that nature in order to upgrade and get promoted to higher ranks. That also includes becoming a SOWAS, SOVAS, or SODAS soldier. We don't care how you do it. Act like a ninja and take your vampire target by surprise, or go all out and walk up to him guns blazing. If you're unable to do this…well, I can't finish that statement; no one hasn't been able to slay a vampire.

Number 2: No Lycan got anywhere or scared anyone smelling like berries or lavender! Embrace your manly foul odor with pride!"

I got this rule down.

"Believe it or not, several vampires have Autodysomophobia and will even run away in fear if they get just one whiff of you. So if you walk up to a vampire like this…" he said, getting face to face with another werewolf.

"…He's gonna say--"

"Dude, you have bad breath."

"Exactly! Now--"

"I'm serious!! What'd you eat to make it stink so badly?"

"Ohhh…so we got a comedian. I just figured out your name: Double Mint. Do I have coffee breath?"

"No--"

"Do I have dog shit breath? Do I have onion breath?"

"Sir, this is uncomfortable."

"Why? I want to know how bad my breath smells!"

"You keep walking towards me and I'm feeling…cramped."

"Cramped?"

"Cramped."

"Well this is what happens when you insult me. I MAKE YOU FEEL CRAMPED!!"

The wolf tripped over his own feet and fell down. Another one started laughing.

"What the fuck are you laughin' about?!"

"Sir! Nothing sir!"

"But you were just laughing. How can you laugh at nothing?"

"…"

"Don't tell me you were laughing at the concept of nothing for nothing with the purpose of nothing at all. Is that why you were laughing?"

"…No sir?"

"You have no idea what the fuck I'm talking about, do you?"

"…"

"Now I know your nickname: Pussy." Everyone laughed out loud, including me.

"As far as I know, Pussy is a helluva lot worse than Double Mint. Anyway, here in the Lycan race we go by this motto: I stink, therefore I am…not to be fucked with. If you walk up to a vampire and do this…"

He jumped towards me and belched loudly in my face. The stench was strong enough to knock me and shake my head in disgust.

He chuckled. "…Then that's what'll happen. When they're on the ground all paralyzed, kill them. Sure it's a cheap move, but they kick us in the balls when desperate, so we're even now. If you want to spit on the floor, spit on the floor."

Two of the werewolves spat on the floor.

"If you wanna walk around with morning breath, walk around with morning breath. If you wanna lift your leg and pass gas, then lift your leg and pass gas."

One of the werewolves did so.

"That's the spirit. If you don't wanna wipe your feet, don't wipe your feet. If you wanna burp real loud, go ahead and burp. Of course, this also comes with a very long list that we follow. No soap, no hand soap, no toothpaste, no breath mints--that means you Double Mint--no mouthwash, no deodorant, no shampoo, no hand sanitizer, no wet naps, and no foot cream or scented air spray. Here in the Lycan clan, if someone insults by saying your breath stinks or you smell horrible or feet smell like a janket's ass, you just smile and say thank you."

"So we can't cleanse ourselves in any way?"

"You smell like a rotting carack shell; I don't know why you're talking. Mud baths or relaxing in the mud sauna is as clean as you'll get. Less you want to stand out in the rain and reek like a wet dog."

"What about toilets?" I asked.

"There aren't any." Everyone started to groan.

"SHUT YOUR HALF-WIT PIE-HOLES!! There are outhouses outside you can use. Just try not to inhale too deeply. And there's only seven so use a tree or bush if you gotta pee or take a shit." He exhaled and paused for a little bit.

"Number 3: You will always show up when called upon. I don't care if you're vomiting blood out your nose. I don't care if you're getting a blowjob from a whore. I don't care if your whole family just abandoned you. I don't care if you're dangling from a tower about to die if the rope gets. When we call, you show. …I guess that covers that.

Number 4: When faced against an elite wolverine or a mob of SWAS Werepyres or, god forbid it happens, an elite dracopyre, you will not run!! Putting your life on the line is the reason why you joined this race. So no running, no whining, NO CRYING--that means you, Pussy--no pouting and so on. If you happen to do run from battle, we'll beat the shit out of you until you're blue and can't feel your eyeballs."

"Our eyeballs?"

"Yes, maggot. Your goddamn eyeballs! Number 5: This is our most important rule, Betrayal is never tolerated. Anyone who commits an act of anarchy or is involved in a plot to overrule or assassinate Kingswerst or any other Lycan warrior with die!! If you plant a bomb in Kingswerst's room, you will die. If you knew that that Lycan traitor planted the bomb, you will die. If you shoot Kingswerst in the face because you're drunk, you will die. If you shoot me in the face because you're drunk, I'll fuckin' castrate you."

"What does that mean?"

"You really wanna know son? Or do you just want to hear what we consider betrayal?"

"…Keep going."

"If you play a prank on me or any other Lycan that gets them killed, you will die. If you fart in someone's tent, shut the zipper and they suffocate while sleeping, you will die. If your toe knocks down a trail of dominoes which knock over a bowling ball that hits Kingswerst on the head and kills him, you will die!" "That's not fa--"

"YOU WILL DIE!!"

I shut my mouth.

"I don't think you see how serious we are with this rule. Someone tripped a Lycan on accident and he was impaled in the eye with a shotgun. When he tried to pull it out, he pulled the trigger and inadvertently killed himself. So we sent the Lycan who tripped the other into the incinerator in the morgue…while he was still alive."

"How…do you impale yourself with a shotgun barrel??"

Margost-Lyl shrugged. "I dunno, but it happened. Oh, this also includes aligning yourself with any other race we're currently fighting, which are the vampires, werepyres and dracopyres. Anything else?"

"You got any tips for us?" asked Double Mint.

"Never point a shotgun in your face. I cannot tell you how many Lycans do this. If someone gives you a nickname, that's what we call you from now on. Usually it'll be based on what you do. Like uh…hey! Stinky!!" shouted Margost-Lyl. A black furred wolf with a dirty yellow shirt and pants and pads walked up to us. The first thing you noticed about him were the flies buzzing around him and that he smelled horrible. If that wasn't enough he was eating an onion, biting half of it at one time.

"Let me guess, new recruits?"

Everyone held their nose and tried not to gag. I couldn't tell if it was his armpits or his breath that smells worse. Maybe it's just me.

"Well, my nickname is Stinky. …I'm pretty sure you know why."

Margost-Lyl chuckled. "Yeah, they know. Why don't you tell them how long it's been since you had a bath?"

"…What's a bath?"

"You get the picture. That guy over there is Camel-Tail." Margost-Lyl pointed to another Alpha werewolf. His fur was brown and he wore white clothing and pads.

"Why's he called that?"

"All I'm gonna say is never get into a farting contest with him; he'll win."

"That's your opinion." I muttered.

"That's a fact!" he chuckled. "Don't pee on the walls. Don't disturb me while I'm sleeping or I might stab you. Uh…to bounce back to the fourth rule, call for backup instead of running away. What else?"

Margost-Lyl paused and scratched his head. "If you're hungry, go out in the woods and find something. Frankly, I'd try the carack shell stuffed with boiled danglits…"

He paused for a moment and asked, "Ready for the tour?"

Everyone groaned.

"Shut it! We wouldn't want you to get lost in this place. Follow me."

Margost-Lyl took us through a first set of doors into a long corridor.

"This is where all you newbies' stay after we issue you your very own bunk room. Up ahead is the kitchen is case you wanna boil or roast or fry anything you hunt outside. I don't see why fresh meat doesn't taste good by itself, but knock yourself out."

We walked down a set of stairs into a darker hallway with loud machinery. Margost-Lyl had to shout a little bit to be heard.

"Down here is where we ship up and ship out machinery to other Lycan clans to fight against those lifeless vampires! If you don't feel like fighting a vampire or you're too much of a pussy, they work down here AFTER you bag one werepyre and vampire."

We walked back upstairs to a room opposite the hallway of our quarters. Inside were several mud pools with steam rising and a few Lycans inside.

"WHEN you finish training and earn your Lycan ranks, you can rest in our muddy Jacuzzis. But until then, NONE OF YOU ENTER!!"

Margost-Lyl dragged us upstairs into a room behind bulletproof Plexiglas. It looked down into a room of what looked like high-ranking Lycan warriors. Even Kingswerst was inside.

"If you live long enough to gain really high ranks, you'll be able to access the war bunker. This is where we plan all our strategies and ambushes against our enemies. Whatever you do, don't insult Kingswerst when you're in there. I've seen him lash out at some of his most loyal Lycans over minor arguments. In fact, his room is right down this tunnel if you want to go in."

One of the werewolves slowly strolled down the pathway. Margost-Lyl grabbed his tail and yanked him back.

"Maggots never enter the leader's lair!!"

Margost-Lyl walked down another path, leading us to a shooting gallery. It was like all sorts of shooting galleries, loud gunshots, several guns, etc.

"I don't think I need to tell you what this place, but it's where we test out all our guns for use so we know it doesn't backfire."

One of the Lycans was about to look through his shotgun barrel until Margost-Lyl stopped him.

"You idiot!! What did I say about that?!"

"IT doesn't fire!!"

Margost looked through the pump to see no shells were inside.

"You forgot the shells!!" he yelled, hitting him on the head with the gun.

"Sorry, sir."

Margost-Lyl started to walk again downstairs to the first level. He opened up the back doors which lead to possibly the most distressing place of all, the cemetery.

"This is where you go to get pumped right before you kill another vampire nemesis."

"A graveyard?"

"Yeah, smart-ass. A graveyard. Every Lycan warrior that we don't decide to cremate gets buried here. It is depressing, seeing how many warriors have fallen, but it encourages us too. It tells us to keep fighting and get smarter. There's nothing here but the gravestone and a few words written one it. Like this one here."

One of the stones read, "Rofts. SOWAS colonel. 2215-2306. Here lies Colonel Rofts of the SOWAS battalion. He was a great, fierce Lycan warrior who will be surely missed. May his feet stink of cheese and fungi for the great gods and demons that watch over him."

"We do also have an exclusive golden burial site for elite and almighty Lycan warriors. Like the Wereking. He was the previous Lycan leader before Kingswerst took over. Unlike the werepyres previous leader, he died peacefully."

"What's with the last part of the memorandum on the stones?"

"That's just what we put to briefly note what each warriors' specialty was."

"I'm guessing Rofts had big, stinky feet…"


	4. Training's a Bitch

**

* * *

**

Chronicles of Drakmoon

**3  
****Training's a Bitch**

The title says it all. 

**3:29 p.m.**

"Right. That's it for the tour and basic tutorial. Your room number is on the guard I gave you. And, oh yeah, you get textbooks."

Everyone started to groan.

"The only way you maggots can figure out your enemies is if you study them as much as you can. Personally, I hate this book, but I read it already. Tomorrow morning you maggots get to start your training. Have fun!"

He smiled devilishly, as though he was saying that training was being thrown into a mine pit.

Room 219 looked like a standard college dorm: A computer, a bunk bed, some desks and so on. The other Lycan inside was named Sheemer the Sewer. Maybe someone said his breath smells like sewage waste…and it does. His fur is brown and so is his shirt. His pants are yellow with a thick black stripe.

"You Canchuck?"

"That's me."

"Great! Guess we're roommates then. But you know, I got the higher rank in here."

"Is that so? How many vampires did you kill?"

"23. I've been here two months now. I know it'll seem hard tomorrow, but after the training, everything's a breeze."

"What is the training anyway?"

"Oh, that's a secret." he said, smiling devilishly.

**The next day…**

**5:00 a.m.**

"GET UP MAGGOTS!!" yelled an Alpha Werewolf upon entering our room.

"OWW! What the fuck?!"

Bastard kicked me out of bed!

"All maggots report to the training rooms ASAP!"

"Awright mate! Damn, don't have to shove me head out the bed."

**5:30 a.m.**

I walked to a room that smelled like metal and burnt fur. I just hope this doesn't involve me getting my arse burned to a crisp. Two Alpha wolves appeared from beyond a door. One of them was Hrhimvoc-Svilt and the other didn't have a name (not that I know of anyway). Hrhimvoc was black furred and wearing camouflage blue shorts and a shirt. The other simply wore dark red shorts and was also black furred.

"So…looks like we get to tend to fresh meat today. I hear you're the new recruit in Room 219?"

"Yeah? …So?"

"It's funny. Despite how many victims you've taken on Earth and several other worlds, you haven't managed to kill one vampire." Hrhimvoc-Svilt scoffed.

"Pathetic."

"If I joined the Lycan race only to get insulted, I coulda stayed back at Star Inc."

Hrhimvoc-Svilt shoved me next to a metal support beam.

"Shut up."

"So who are you? The nameless Toe-Jam?"

"Just Toe-Jam actually."

"What does that mean; you got a lotta crud in your toenails?" I groaned as he smeared some brownish-pink cream on my face. It smelled horrible and reminded me of Teddy's stinky feet.

"That answer your question?"

My wrist suddenly felt tightened and I realized Hrhimvoc-Svilt tied my hands behind the beam.

"What the hell…?"

"Welcome to your first training lesson: Stoutness." "…."

"We're gonna see how much pain you can take and prepare you to take even more." said Toe-Jam. "Bring it on!! I've learned to tolerate pain long before you were even born!"

"Really?"

"Yeah!"

Toe-Jam kicked me in the balls.

"OOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWW!! You motherfucking twat!" I whined.

"Trust me. By the 12th time, you won't feel a thing…for two seconds." advised Toe-Jam

"Okay, so you punch Lycans in the balls. It can't get any worse--"

Hrhimvoc-Svilt broke two of my fingers. I screamed horribly.

"Hey!! No crying pussy!" he shouted.

"Trust me; it'll all be worth it once you're in the battlefield."

Hrhimvoc-Svilt made a fist and aimed at my nose.

"No, no, no, no!!"

* * *

I woke up gasping for air in some sort of…green sludge spa thing. Ew, what is this stuff anyway? I looked to my left and saw a Lycan warrior wearing blue shorts.

"Do you feel any pain?" he asked.

"Uhh…" Holy crap. My fingers aren't broken anymore! Every brutal scars and bruises Toe-Jam and Hrhimvoc-Svilt gave me is gone!!

"No. I feel great actually!"

"Well, you should. That's Acid-Dragon pee." I jolted out the pool and shook myself dry. The other Lycan started laughing.

"Acid-Dragon Pee mate?!"

"See, thousand of years ago, some Lycan was walking home, bleeding out of every skin mark on his body. Unfortunately, he was ambushed by a squad of dracopyres. Go figure."

"What the 'ell does that 'ave to do with dragon piss?"

"When he was walking, a giant Acid-Dragon landed next to him. He was going to eat him, but he took one sniff at the werewolf and he backed the fuck off."

"So that 2nd rule really does help."

"Before the dragon left, he lifted his leg and shot out like 5 gallons of pee on the guy and farted in his face."

"No one likes the smell of dragon farts…"

"No, we don't. The point is, after a half-hour, he felt completely unscathed. It was like nothing even happened to him!"

"Cool. What's your name?"

"Shank the Pee."

I laughed out loud. "Why do they call you that? OWW!! You piece of shit! HEY!"

Shank stabbed me and threw me in a pool of dragon urine.

"That's why."

* * *

"This looks very familiar…" I muttered, walking into a room with little light.

Only Margost-Lyl and Kingswerst were here. He was just standing there, breathing heavily at me.

"I know what you're thinking. Why not just throw a breath mint into Kingswerst's mouth? Hopeful I won't suffocate from his foul breath."

"I'm used to it. 'Sides, I haven't brushed my teeth for over 100 years."

"That's good to hear. One less Lycan to criticize me."

"What's this training course for…?"

"Attack me."

"….What?"

"He said attack, pup. I suggest you do it." said Margost.

"I don't understand--"

"I'm sick and tired of you goddamn maggots saying I'm just an old dog waiting to die. So now, I made part of the training program a test to see if you can really kick my ass."

"But--"

"If you don't attack right now, we're gonna see how long you can go with your throat ripped out your neck before you die. So far, it's been 30 minutes. …Maybe you'll break it."

I immediately punched Kingswerst…or tried to anyway, but he blocked it and twisted my arm, kicking me twice in the face.

"That all you got?"

I charged toward him and tried to punch him again. He violently twisted my arm and held it with his.

"Kingswerst! Damnit--" Something snapped…my arm. I started groaning and coughing.

"Not even 12 seconds and I broke your arm!"

"Better than most. That last pup you dueled with fractured his neck in 7 seconds." muttered Margost-Lyl.

I tried to trip him, but he simply stepped on my Achilles tendon, hopefully not breaking that too. He grabbed me by the throat and punched me four times, squeezing until I passed out.

"Damn, I think I killed him."

* * *

I woke up inside the chamber full of pools of Acid-Dragon urine.

"So, ready for your weapons training?" asked Shank the Pee.

"Weapons training? Hah! Like I really need to learn how to shoot."

"That's not what I mean."

* * *

"Here in the Lycan race, you'll need to learn to take a bullet for your werewolf leader…or to just show how tough you are. We don't use those regular Earth bullets I'm sure most of you are fond of. We use fire encased shells made of titanium and light encased shells made of zirconium…or whatever this metal is called. Silver doesn't cut it with vampires; they've somehow grown immune to it after the years."

Our trainer this time was Dragonslayer Itchin. I'm not sure where the Dragonslayer part came in, but he has a lot of fleas and I usually see him scratching. He's even scratching himself with his gun right now. He's a regular werewolf with green fur and wearing black shorts with a blue stripe.

"Um…if this is weapons training, why don't we have any guns?" asked Double Mint.

Itchin suddenly shot him with his fire bullet. It hit him in the arm.

"What the fuck?!" he shouted.

"I told you, you need to learn how to take a bullet pup."

Shackles, another new recruit, started laughing at Double Mint. "You got shot in the arm!"

Itchin suddenly shot him in the chest, thrusting his body backward onto the floor.

"Holy shit…" muttered Pussy.

"He's fine. He'll get up in a few hours."

Itchin scratched himself and took out a shotgun and aimed it at me. …Wait, what?!

"Oh, shit!" The blast of the gun felt like getting hit by a truck. Somehow, I still managed to stand up. I started breathing heavily.

"Wow!! Even I didn't manage to stay up with my first shotgun shell blast! That's amazing pup!"

"Yeah, amazin'!" I said gutturally, clutching my chest.

"I mean, I don't even see how it's possible to even--AHH, THESE FLEAS ARE SO GODDAMN ITCHY!!" he suddenly yelled.

Itchin began to scratch himself crazy with his foot and even started biting his fur.

"Can me an' Shackles take a dip in dragon pee? I'm about to die!"

"Sure. Whatever. This is really all the training there is in weapons." I dragged Shackles and myself out the training room.

"Wonder if you can take an AK fire bullet to the head…?"

"…Why are you lookin' at me like that?" asked Pussy.

* * *

"You know if you get over the fact that this is pee, it's really relaxing." said Shackles.

"So…what's next?" I asked.

"Fire training." said Shank.

"Aw, shit."

**6:30 p.m.**

"I will never play with fire again." muttered Double Mint.

"I don't think it was until I realized my eye sockets were on fire that I knew I had 3rd degree burns." said Shackles.

"Thank God we're done with training for today. Now just 13 more to go before we get our stripes." I said, trying to encourage everyone else, although I doubt it worked.

**8:45 p.m.**

High Council Duke Vitsnap looked over the Drakmoon Forest from atop his tower, pondering about what could happen in the next few days. He was an elder vampire (a very old one at that) wearing a black coat, pants and boots. Possibly the main upside about vampire is that they have the appearance of humans (excluding their fangs) so getting around in town is fairly easy. Of course, like werewolves, he can transform into a deadly vampire lord and obtain deadly attacks. His second in command, Pukits came in, wearing the same clothing, but blue.

"Tell me Pukits, how long has it been since we had a war?"

"Couple years, maybe five."

"So what's stopping our races from having another one?"

"We want to be smart about it and try to eliminate the werewolf scum completely."

"Doesn't mean we can't post a few…hits here and there."

"Sir, that's usually how these wars start."

"You hear of Rofts demise a few days ago?"

"Yes. I am so glad he was taken care of. That bastard was stinkin' up the forest with those feet of his."

Vitsnap chuckled. "Yes. Yes, he was. The point I'm trying to make is…why can't we attack too?"

"Because we explode if sunlight touches us." "

So we'll attack at night. Besides, it's always dark in Drakmoon, day or night."

"I hope you're right."


	5. The First Blow

**4  
****The First Blow**

Two weeks after Wolf's hellish training, he and a squad of mercenaries are ready to hunt their first Vampire Lord.

**2 Weeks Later…  
****October 25****th****, 2306**

**2:34 p.m.**

After long days of getting burned, shot, beaten, and soaking in reptile pee, we finally received our first target, named Titsvu Arklaw. Apparently, Arklaw has been turning way too many villagers and mine workers into vampires, which means more allies on their side. This needs to stop today…right now. I took lead for my squad of three werewolves. I decided to take Shackles and Shank the Pee. He hadn't seen too much action and Shank would be easy at stealth and hiding in dark places. We were part of the VMS (vampire mercenary squadron), but that doesn't mean we can't take side jobs. We are mercenaries after all. Currently we're gathering all our weapons and supplies for the hit.

"Three Lycans? That's all this is?" said Shackles.

"We're just pups. You know how people are on pups and newbies." I said.

"Yeah, I suppose."

"Hand me that knife." said Shank, putting the knife into his pocket.

He started spraying some odd deodorant under his arms and into his mouth.

"I thought Margost-Lyl said no hygiene?" I asked.

"This isn't deodorant; it's odorant."

"Odorant?" said Shackles.

"Yeah, like deodorant, but backwards."

"So it makes you stink?"

"Pretty much."

"Can we borrow that?"

"Yeah, I got uh, smelly dumpster, wet raster, dragon breath--"

"Dragon breath! Gimme that one." said Shackles. He tossed Shackles a red can with a dragon on the side. Shackles took off the cap and sprayed it under his arms and in his mouth.

"You got cheesy wolf toes?" I asked.

"Nope."

"How 'bout fungus swamp?"

"Yep. Stink it up." I sprayed the substance in my mouth and my armpits.

"Anyway, we better make sure we got the right kind of guns. Whaddaya got?" asked Shank the Pee.

"Uhh…Combat Shotgun, two Deagles, two knives with light compression." said Shackles.

"I got two M9s, two knives with light compression and an AUG." said Shank.

"Stealth kit eh?"

"That's right. What do you got?"

"A G36, two Mac 10s and a light compressed knife. I got a few flash grenades too."

"So…assault Lycan, stealth Lycan, and combat Lycan. Classic pair I guess."

"Alright, then. Let's go bag us some blood suckers!" said Shackles, cocking his shotgun.

**5:32 p.m.**

"Damnit, where the hell is Arklaw?! We've been walking for three hours!" complained Shank the Pee.

Shackles burped loud enough for us to smell his dragon breath.

"Whew! Nice dragon breath!"

Shackles chuckled. "You know you like it!"

"Maybe we should just rest and wait for Arklaw to…" The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I took out my G36. A vampire appeared from the edge of the woods. He was wearing black pants and a yellow vest, with short hair.

"Hey Sflorgs! You still got that Autodysomophobia?! Go on, take a whiff."

Shank the Pee exhaled right next to Sflorgs nostrils. He veered his head back and shouted, "P.U.!! Man, you breath smells like a dog wrapped in gym socks!"

"That's cause I used Dog Wrapped in Gym Sock odorant. Now let's have a whiff of my armpits, eh?"

Sflorgs tried to move back, but Shank the Pee grabbed his head and stuck it under his arms. All of us couldn't help but continue to laugh.

"Oh, you can't smell? Oh, you can't smell??"

Sflorgs muttered what sounded like, "No I can't!"

"Alright, that's enough. Let me break your neck."

"MMPHP?!" Shank the Pee violently twisted his head around, breaking his neck.

"Right. I wonder where Titsvu is…?" wondered Shackles.

A silhouette of wings appeared in the skies and we got our weapons out.

"Wait a sec. That wasn't a vampire. It's a--"

Several drops of…something fell all over us.

"Catch us if you can Lycan scum!!" said a werepyre.

"Motherfucking--" Shank the Pee started swearing and babbling in Wolficans, a language known only to us Lycans.

"They're part of the A.L.C.!!"

"What's that?" I asked.

"Asbestos Laying Coalition!"

"…THIS IS WEREPYRE SHITE!?"

Shackles laughed. "I didn't get any on me!"

We scraped some of the dung off and threw it at him.

"Eww!!"

"Let's stop toying wit each other and just kill those arseholes!!"

We ran deeper into the forest until we found out where those stinkin' werepyres landed. Two of em' were wearing green shirts and had red noses. Another wore a purple shirt with a blue nose. All of them had on brown pants. And they were laughing at us!

"I think I hit one in the mouth!"

"YOU--" Shank the Pee crept behind one and stabbed him in the chin, suspending him in the air. Then he shot the other one seven times with his fire bullets from his M9. Not one sound was made, except the soft cough of bullets erupting from the gun. And the gurgling sound the other werepyre made.

"What the--"

I flipped the other werepyre over and said, "I'm gonna rip this fucker's throat out; you just watch!"

The two of us started fighting with each other and I ended up slapping his hands away and grabbed his neck. After two seconds, his Adam's apple came out and he made a loud guttural groan.

"See?"

"You gotta teach me how to do that." said Shackles.

"Later, we gotta find Arklaw before he gets away!"

**5:57 p.m.**

"They're coming!" yelled a vampire warrior, repeatedly shooting his Mac-10 at us.

"There's only three of 'em! Stop them!" yelled another.

I used my G36 to shoot one in the stomach twice...I'm only surprised they burst into ash. Maybe that only happens with sunlight...

"How do you like it now, ya blood-suckin' freaks?!" shouted Shackles.

He and Shank gunned the last two vampires with their handguns. All of us reloaded our weapons and got ready to face Titsvu.

Shank began to sniff the air and realized Arklaw was very close. "Come on out of hiding, Arklaw. We won't ya...much!"

"You asked for it."

Shank yelled as Arklaw swooped down and clawed at him, knocking him into a tree. He stood in front of us and took out two duel swords which were bright yellow like his skin.

"Hey, I thought you guys were grey?" said Shackles.

Arklaw ignored him and began to attack us. Shank was still lying next to the tree, unconscious. Shackles and I took out our knives and began blocking his strong attacks. One of his swords was slowly penetrating my skin, cutting right down to the flesh. I burped in his face to try and distract him.

"Eww! You Lycans and your foul breath! OWW!!"

Shackles slit his wing wide open with his knives, smiling.

"Fuck, you ripped my wing." he muttered, fluttering his useless wing.

Arklaw began attack us again, but with Shank regaining consciousness and grabbing his own knife, there's know way he's leaving this place alive. I slit him in the face after blocking a deadly sword attack.

"Give it up Arklaw! Why don't you just run away like all you Vampires do?" asked Shank.

"Never!!" Arklaw pointed both swords right at us, charging towards us and letting out a battle cry. As soon as he got close, we jumped over him and I stabbed him in the back of the throat. Blood slowly seeped out of his mouth and he dropped both of his swords.

Shank sighed exasperatedly. "Shackles...you're bloodsucker's trying to get away."

Arklaw was making a pathetic attempt to fly away from the area, but it seemed impossible with a gash that big in his neck. Shank, Shackles and I grabbed our handguns and shot Arklaw to pieces, his body twitching with every shot. After all the shots were fired, he fell down and we started cheering.

"YEAH!! Take that you bloodsuckin' bastards!" yelled Shackles, kicking his corpse.

"What should we do guys: Eat him or take him back to our lair and get some money?" I asked.

"Well Camel-Tail did say he was making that meaty stew with chuncks of BURP meat." said Shackles.

"All right then. Let's get the bodies!"

**8:09 p.m.**

Shackles and Shank were loading up the dead Vampires on a truck headed to the Collection cemetary. It's where we put dead enemies and sometimes display their bodies with little tags saying who killed them. It changes every week for competition to spark throughout the HQ. So far, Camel-Tail has the most kills.

"I can't believe your team took out three ALC members on your first hit!"

"Yeah, you could've warned us that they do fly-by shit attacks."

"So how'd it feel taking the life of your batty Vampire enemy? Did you feel anything, any power surging through you right now?" he asked.

I laughed. "Give us somethin' harder next time Camel-Tail!"

"Don't get so cocky. I still hold this week's record for most slayed Vampires."

"That won't last too long mate. My team and I are gonna break that record very soon.

"We'll see."


	6. PeptoBismal

**Chronicles of Drakmoon**

**5  
Pepto-Bismol**

Kingswerst and several other Lycan warriors have been getting a bad case of food poisoning illnesses. Perhaps it's the work of the Lycan Hunter Vampire Osigrode?

"How many Vampires was that sir?" asked Margost-Lyl.

"22. You might actually break the record this week. Camel-Tail is gonna be pissed."

"Come on Kingswerst, how long has he had the record for most vampire kills?"

The two of them began to walk outside their HQ, still talking about the vampire kill counts.

"How many did Wolf get?"

"Seven."

"He doesn't count anyway; he's just a pup anyway."

"Yeah...you're right." Kingswerst sighed, looking a little green.

"What about Shank and Stinky? I hear Stinky got 47 this week..."

Kingswerst's stomach growled and he groaned.

"Hey Kingswerst, you all right?"

He suddenly began to vomit over the rail violently. All the lunch food he just ate was spewing out of his mouth, amongst other things.

"That's a no."

* * *

"You really think someone is gonna eat roasted ice dragon?" asked Shank.

"C'mon Shank. Who doesn't like the refreshing taste of frozen dragon butt?"

"Eww. Who eats a dragon's butt?" I asked.

"Trust me, it tastes better than it sounds. Besides, I don't want Kingswerst to hog it all."

"I thought we had more frost dragon back at the HQ?" asked Shank.

"So we got more dragon butts! What is wrong with eating dragon butts?!"

"Stop saying dragon butt! It sounds weird!" I said.

Shackles shoved some of the dragon butt in his mouth and swallowed hard.

"Anyway...what's our next target: Werepyres or Vampires? It'd be nice if I rip another neck out." I said.

"You still gotta teach me that trick..." Shackles stopped for a moment.

He started to turn a little green and his stomach growled. He stopped walking and groaned.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked.

He dropped the dragon parts and crouched over to a bush, defecating violently. Shank and I started laughing our arses off.

"Shut up! It's not funny assholes!"

"Yeah, it is! You're crapping in the bush so hard it hurts! And it stinks!" said Shank.

"THIS IS NOT FUNNY! I think a rib came out!"

"Just go drink Pepto-Bismol!"

Everything was funny until he started vomiting really hard too...and this time a bone did come out.

"Oh shit...we better call a doctor."

* * *

"So what happened to him Gex?" asked Shank.

Gex was one of the various Lycan chimeras we've "accepted" into our pack. I think it's awesome to be half-werewolf and lizard, but a lot of Lycans seem to hate him.

"What d'you think? Food poisoning."

"When I get food poisoning, I can't move. I don't vomit up my own bones and organs." I said.

"Yeah, well someone put corrosive arsenic in that frozen dragon you killed. Pretty sure it's in a bunch of other foods too..."

"What're you saying? We can't eat now?!" shouted Shank.

"Hey, if you wanna crap out your own bones, that's fine by me!"

"Shut up Gex! It's gotta be those stinkin' Vampires again!"

"Why would they poison our food? So we'll have bowel problems every couple hours; that's not enough to stop us from hunting them down!" I said.

"Not if you start dying..." muttered Gex.

"What was that?"

"...Nothing."

**3:00 p.m.**

"Are you absolutely sure you didn't eat anything today Sheemer?" asked Shank.

He laughed. "I just woke up a few minutes ago!"

"...It's three in the afternoon."

"Seriously? I thought it was the morning."

"It doesn't matter. Let's just find this vampire and kill 'im before he poisons any more Lycans."

"Hey, Sheemer, what's these large purple reptile lookin' things?" asked Shank.

"Salamanders. You should be glad we managed to tame 'em. Otherwise they'd be as deadly as dragons."

"I thought these things were orange...?"

"You also thought I peed in your cranberry pie--"

"HEY!! You were standing awfully close by it doin' the potty dance!"

"There's a bunch of trees right outside!"

"All I know is that--"

"So anywaaay...what do we need salamanders for?"

"They're like horses in the 18th century. And we look bitchin' when we ride them."

I walked up to the growling creature, examining it.

"Sure is a burly lookin' fellow." The salamander snorted at me. "They remind me of myself for some reason..."

"Hey, flick it on the nose." said Sheemer.

"Why?"

"Just flick it."

I flicked the salamander on the nose and it belched loudly in my face. I laughed out loud and said, "Nice one! You and I are gonna be good friends!"

"What is that, their way of sayin' hello?" asked Shank.

"Yep."

"How do they say goodbye?"

"Mmm...you don't wanna know..." said Sheemer.

I frowned and turned around, saying, "Don't say goodbye to me."

The salamander grunted.

* * *

"Hey, how much farther?" asked Shank.

"I don't know, but we should be getting near town soon. Maybe one of the humans there knows something."

A twig snapped in the distance and we immediately jumped off our salamanders.

"What was that?" asked Sheemer.

I started sniffing the air and slowly crept across the ground on all fours, looking for the scent.

"Human..." I growled.

"Hold up a minute." Sheemer got a flash grenade and heard someone screaming and groaning.

"Gotcha!" I yelled, running towards the distorted human and leaping upon him.

"You're--you're one of those--"

"Yeah, yeah, those smelly werewolves with bad breath and cheesy smellin' toes. We know!"

"Wait a minute, I think I know you!" said the human.

"Shut up!"

"Now we don't know who you are or what you're doing in the middle of the forest, but it can't be something good. So why don't you tell us what you're doing and we'll let you go."

"Go to hell!" Shank sliced off the human's left ear and swallowed it. He screamed.

"You don't know how much I wanted you to say that!"

"Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you animals?!"

Sheemer laughed. "Animals? You laugh at monkey's when they throw poo at each other; I don't think we're the animals. ...But if you really want to see how savage we are..."

Sheemer took out two incinerator grenades.

"Let's see how long you last with fiery acid flames burning into your lungs."

"I thought those set people on fire?" I asked.

"No, see I've modified it with my breath and sewage waste, so instead of fire on your body, you get a corroding acid entering your lungs. You wanna see what it feels like human?" said Sheemer, smiling devilishly.

"OSIGRODE!! Lycan Hunter Osigrode! He told me to watch you Lycans and pollute your society with arsenic!"

"Heh, I had a feeling Osigrode was up to his tricks again. So if it's chemical warfare he wants, it's chemical warfare he--" Shank immediately vomited right in front of us and started coughing violently.

We turned towards the human and muttered, "You son of a bitch."

**3:50 p.m.**

"What're you maggots doing bringing a filthy human into our lair?!" yelled Margost-Lyl.

"This guy's been poisoning our food and was sent by Osigrode to do so. He even poisoned himself s owe wouldn't devour him."

"That's right! Take one lick of me and ya dead!"

"SHUT UP!!" I yelled, knocking the human to the ground.

"How serious has this gotten?" asked Sheemer.

Margost-Lyl sighed. "Rico threw up his ribcage and Barrs shit out his liver."

"Guys, we got another three fatalities, all of 'em threw up their intestines." said Gex.

"GODDAMNIT! I don't care how long it takes, I don't care how many vampires and humans stand in your way: You find Osigrode and make him into a Pez-dispenser! Anything less than his Adam's apple in your hands is unacceptable." said Margost.

"Why is this such a big--"

"Is Kingswerst dies because he shit out his brain, it'll be the biggest embarrassment in Lycan history!! We're gonna have to destroy every race with full force just to prove a point and regain our honor! I will be damned if our Lycan leader dies from food poisoning! Now find that fucking--"

Margost-Lyl suddenly vomited all over us. Sheemer shouted and yelled, "WHAT THE FUCK?!"

He burped. "Damn Lycan berries."

"Christ, we can't eat anything anymore!" said Sheemer.

"I'd come with you to help, but I can't anymore. Camel-Tail will join you shortly. Now if you excuse me, I'm gonna go throw up some more." said Margost-Lyl, walking away belching and retching.

"This is getting serious! What if this stuff becomes airborne?" asked Sheemer.

"I'm going to Pluto."

* * *

Camel-Tail, Sheemer, and I were on a stakeout at the Marzy Barn's hotel not far from the forest.

"Hey, Camel-Tail."

"What?"

"Why are you called Camel-Tail again?" I asked.

Camel-Tail chuckled and grunted, farting so loudly I thought our cover would be blown. Sheemer held his nose in disgust and I fell in the grass howling with laughter.

"Notice how my tail wiggled like a camel when it farts?"

"I know!"

"I thought you were called Camel-Tail because of how bad your farts smell!" said Sheemer.

"That too."

I abruptly stopped laughing and said, "Stuff it mates. I think Osigrode just got here."

Another vampire lord that was blue landed in front of the hotel, talking to a group of humans. Sure, some human needs microphones and other surveillance equipment, but we can hear perfectly, even from this distance.

"How's the operation going Marx?" Marx was some human mercenary always wearing brown. A normal Lycan would call him Odigrode's bitch.

"Sir, it's not going as well as we hoped, but--"

"BUT NOTHING! I've finally found the Lycans' weakness and took five lives in the last few hours. Soon, five turns to 10, 10 to 40, 40 to 500, so on and so forth."

"I just need more money to make it work. After that, you can expect us to--"

Osigrode lashed out at Marx's chest and threw him against the building, killing him. "I already gave you humans enough money to make this agent work! You ask for anything more, and I'll kill you all right there on the spot! Now keep working, I must retreat to my lair."

Osigrode spread his wings and flew up into the sky.

"Damnit, he's getting away!" said Camel-Tail.

"Don't worry about it; I can track his scent from here. He's not going to get away." I began sprinting towards Osigrode on all fours.

Sheemer sighed. "HEY HUMANS!! You wanna see what it feels like when acid corrodes your lungs?" he said, tossing up an incinerator grenade.

* * *

Osigrode flew down and retracted his wings, slowly walking into his shack. Now...all I gotta do is creep up behind him and rip out his throat with my teeth. I continued to creep up behind him and sniffed the air.

"Oh shit." I muttered, hiding behind a tree. Osigrode took out his Colt M1911 and pointed it backwards.

"I coulda sworn I just smelled a filthy werewolf...I must be getting paranoid." said Osigrode.

Fuck this, I'm just gonna go for it. I charged towards Osigrode...until he tripped me and pointed a gun at my head. I quickly kicked it up as he fired and kicked him in the torso. Before he grabbed his gun, I pinned him to the ground.

"Who are you? What--"

"Shut ya mouth! Y'know, I don't understand why a vampire like you wants to kill us all by makin' us vomit up our intestines. Maybe you think it's funny, but I don't."

Osigrode laughed. "It is funny!"

I shot him in the back. He didn't scream or yell or anything...probably because I shot one of his vertebrae and paralyzed him.

"What...what did you just do to me?"

"You're paralyzed from the waist down. Now i can paralyze you from the neck down or even put you in a coma...but I'm not that kind of Lycan warrior. So tell me, how do we cure ourselves from the corrosive arsenic?"

He sighed defeatedly. "Don't worry about it. Just wait two days and It'll wear off the food we've sprayed it on."

"Damnit. I can't eat food for two days?!"

"Not here, no."

"Hmph. Guess I'll go back to Earth to eat."

"Are you gonna let me go now?"

"Uhhhh...no." I said, cutting deeply into his throat until his Adam's apple came out.

"Another win for the Lycans."

* * *

"Nice bag, you actually did more than just kill your target." said Margost-Lyl.

I shrugged. "It's no trouble. I live to serve you and our fellow Lycan leader."

"Good. When you'd say this would wear off again?"

"Two days. Then you're back your badass attitude that everybody hates."

"Shut up! Or do you want me to burp in your face again?"

"No, you'd probably throw up on me again."

* * *

"So how's Margost doing?" asked Sheemer.

"He'll be back to normal in two days."

"Fuck, that's not enough time."

"For what?"

"Marking my territory on his werepyre trophies."

I laughed. "Yeah, he'd kill you if you did that. ...Where's Shackles?"

"Still at the medical center. He ruptured his bowels and vomited a couple bones so...he's not coming out for a couple weeks."

"Guess you're my new partner then mate."

Sheemer smiled. "I guess so."


	7. It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

**Chronicles of Drakmoon**

It's National Werepyre Killing Spree Day, and the Lycans forgot all about it. Elsewhere, Wolf and his team make friends with a wind dragon…sort of.

**Chapter 6: It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year **

"Only five more minutes until it's National Werepyre Killing Spree Day!" said Skunky.

"Stop acting like a schoolgirl Skunky, we're all happy we get to kill a shitload of Lycans and other enemies on our lists." said Scowlblane.

"I know, it's just exciting y'know? Tomorrow's the one day we can strike back at the vampires and cause as much mayhem as possible."

"Whatever. Want a breath mint Skunky?" asked Howlblane.

"What!"

"Heh, I'm just fuckin' with you."

"But seriously, you need a breath mint!" laughed Scowlblane.

"Shut up Scowl! Is that why you guys nicknamed me Skunky?"

"No, we nicknamed you Skunky cause look like a skunk and smell like one and you shoot some smelly liquid out your butt." said Howlblane.

"Seriously Skunky, I think you were a skunk before I bit you; you even got the white stripe on the back." said Maust.

"So I should stop wearing a black vest with a white stripe on it?"

"Yeah, wear red like I do." said Howlblane.

"Maust you don't even wear a shirt! Just a pair of tattered grey shorts." yelled Skunky.

"It goes with my blue fur and nose!"

"Why are we bitchin' about fashion when we're about to kill a crapload of people…?" asked Scowlblane.

"Yeeeah, you're right. Heh, maybe I'll get to skin another human again." said Wrack. He was the werepyre who skinned Wilk alive.

"Well you better save me some or I'll kick your ass." warned Howlblane.

"Christ, how much time left?" asked Gitcozty, a green werepyre wearing a black and blue shirt with gray shorts.

"60 seconds." said Scowlblane.

"All right my fellow werepyre lieutenants, let's not spoil the moment and just be quiet for the next…52 seconds." said Howlblane.

All the werepyres stood there, not making so much as a chuckle, although Skunky noticed Wrack licking his lips, drooling like crazy. He felt like he should make a joke about it or some dry comment. But he just kept his mouth shut. Howlblane saw his brother hold up five fingers, then four, three, two, and lastly only one…

**12:00 midnight**

"YEEEAAAHH!! GO MY WEREPYRE BROTHERS!! GO, GO, GO!!!" yelled Howlblane to his werepyres rushing out of their HQ.

"God, I love National Werepyre Killing Spree Day!"

* * *

"So tell me, what is this machine called again?" asked Chevsky, a new recruit with green fur.

"I call it The Load…for obvious reasons." said Kingswerst.

"The Load?" asked Mossin, the other new recruit who had grey fur.

"It's one of vital…sex machines."

Chevsky and Mossin laughed.

"What the fuck are you talkin' about? I didn't know Lycans were concerned about sex." said Chevsky.

"Have you ever had a time where you were just having the best sex with another wolf? Like just…doing her in the ass for two hours non-stop?"

"Heh, yeah, I see what you're saying."

"Well, that's why some perverted werewolf built The Load."

Mossin scratched his head. "I still don't get it."

"Let me just show you."

Kingswerst unzipped his pants and inserted his penis inside this tube right under the machine. Chevsky and Mossin looked with a raised eyebrow, wondering what he was doing.

"And now…you just relax. Just….relax. God, this feels good…"

Kingswerst suddenly passed gas and Chevsky and Mossin laughed.

"Hey, shut up! Nothing's wrong with flatulence during sex!"

"You fart when you're humping your mate in the ass?" asked Mossin.

"It's natural, it shows we're healthy!"

"So you just sit there and stick your dick in that tube?"

"No you idiots! It collects sperm. The point of the machine is to collect sperm so if we die tomorrow, we can still have offspring."

"Like a sperm bank?"

Kingswerst pulled out his penis and zipped his pants back up. "Pretty much. Now go kill some vampires."

"See ya Kingswerst!" said Chevsky, walking past Stinky.

"Who's that, new recruits?" asked Stinky.

"Yeah, couple of screw heads I knew a while back."

"Right, I think I know them from somewhere. What's our schedule for day? It's already two in the morning and many of our warriors are sleeping."

"I know we're not hunting for danglits again." Kingswerst sighed. "Let's go hunting for that spy Urvag. Lately he's been taming earth dragons and trying to use them against us."

"…Wasn't Urvag a werewolf like us?"

"WAS Stinky! He betrayed us and let that bastard Howlblane turn him into one of his own! You know what the punishment is for betrayal!"

"Yeah, yeah."

Itchin walked into the room holding a newspaper, scratching and biting himself like crazy.

"Guys you better be glad I fetch the morning paper or we'd be screwed!"

"Why?" asked Stinky.

Itchin slammed the newspaper on a table and it said "Caution! National Werepyre Killing Spree Day tomorrow!"

"Shit, I completely forgot about that! Thanks Itchin!" said Stinky.

"It's today, Itchin. Yesterday morning you got the newspaper, and it's 2:35 in the morning."

"…What does that mean?"

"We got six hours to get our warriors ready!" yelled Kingswerst.

"Guys--"

"WHAT!" yelled Kingswerst.

"If Howlblane gets a head start…"

"Stinky, Howlblane isn't gonna start at exactly midnight…"

Itchin, Stinky and Kingswerst looked at the paper and then at each other, not knowing what to say.

"Ohhh, shit."

"Wake everyone up, now!!!" yelled Kingswerst, rushing out the room with his weapons.

* * *

"SHANK!!!" I yelled. Shank had mysteriously disappeared and me and Sheemer were left to find him in the forest.

"Goddamnit--SHANK!!"

"Hello! Where the 'ell are you?" I wondered.

"Why don't we just sniff him out? I don't know any other Lycan that reeks of dragon urine."

"How many dragons you see just fly around and pee on the ground?"

"Thousands."

"Yeah, thousands!"

"Fuck it, I'm still gonna use my nose." Sheemer got on all fours and began to sniff the dirt and air, hoping to get whiff of Shank.

"It's this way, c'mon on!"

Sheemer and I ran across the forest, traversing through the dead leaves and dirt, tripping over a log on the way.

"Stop, stop. He's somewhere over here."

"Yeah…I'm starting to smell him too."

"Yes…" Sheemer inhaled so hard, I could see his nostrils move. "He's very close by…"

I took another whiff real fast and suddenly got a different scent. "Sheemer, do you smell a dragon…?" I asked.

"He's right over…HERE!"

Something gray moved upward and a loud farting noise came out from behind I, followed by a loud sense of laughter.

"That was too funny!" said Shank.

"What the hell was that?! The only animal whose farts smell that bad are--"

"Dragons." I said.

"How's it goin' wolfies?"

The gray figure turned around and revealed its face to us. It was a dragon, big and gray, with dark grey spikes on its head.

"Shank, what're you doing making friends with a wind dragon?!"

"Oi! I thought you wolfies were fond of dragons!" said the dragon.

"No Lycan likes a creature that does fly-by snacking and has a thing for defecating while flying!" yelled Sheemer.

"So? And he's a plasma dragon and wind dragon hybrid." Shank corrected.

"So your parents…?" I asked.

"Right. One was a wind dragon, the other plasma. That's why I only got a few spikes on my head and don't have angel-like wings wolfie."

Sheemer sighed. "What do you think we should do Wolf?"

"The only thing I hate more than Sheemer's sewer breath--"

"Hey!"

"--Is humid dragon breath. And I don't want to walk around with a wind-plasma dragon hybrid pooping on my back."

"Don't worry bout that wolfie; the lake's my toilet!" he said smiling.

"C'mon guys! I've never tamed a dragon before! Last time it took me two years! I did it overnight! And he could be a spy for us! Y'know, warn us about a massive coalition of dragons attacking us!"

"I fly well too! I'm part wind dragon so I fly better than any other type of dragon."

Sheemer and I looked at each other and scratched our heads.

"Got a name dragon?" I asked.

"Dracayne. The name's Dracayne wolfie."

"Well, Dracayne…as long as you don't pester us every five minute…you can be Shank's 'pet' savvy?"

"YEAH!! I get to keep a wind dragon!" said Shank.

"Just make sure Kingswerst doesn't spot him or you're screwed." said Sheemer.

"Thanks wolfies! Why don't I give you blokes a ride on my back…?" asked Dracayne.

Then I saw it. A twinkle in his eye. Not the backstabbing twinkle, the joke twinkle that comes before the sly smile.

"Uh…why don't you get on first Sheemer?"

"Whatever, more leg room for me!" Sheemer ran behind Dracayne.

"Are you standing directly behind me?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Dracayne lifted his tail and farted in Sheemer's face, blasting him towards a tree. All three of us were on our backs laughing our asses off.

"And that is why they're called wind dragons!" I yelled.

"This is gonna be a long week…" moaned Sheemer.

* * *

Howlblane, Scowlblane and Wrack were hungrily eating the remains of a small pack of soldiers while Wylckik, an orange furred werepyre in a blue and black striped shirt and brown shorts held a knife to one of their necks.

"This isn't fair! You're not supposed to do this. Why do you werepyres go on rampages every year?!?" asked the soldier.

"I didn't make up the holiday." scoffed Wylckik, cutting the human's throat.

Howlblane and his comrades walked inside the bunker and started rampaging through all the weapons until they were suddenly carrying crates full of ammunition into a large trailer truck.

"Are we really gonna try and destroy the Werewolf base like last year?" asked Wylckik.

"No, but after today, we're gonna have enough weapons to dominate this whole planet." said Howlblane, smiling devilishly.

"Why's that?" asked Skunky.

"Cause today, we're gonna take over the Henrise facility in the Freezetar Wastelands."

"Are you crazy Howlblane? Everyone who's tried taking that place over got shot to pieces!" said Gitcozty.

Howlblane laughed. "That was before we got these weapons. I could take out an army of dragons single-handedly right now if I wanted too!"

"…Holy crap. You're really serious bro! We're gonna gain control of that facility!" said Scowlblane.

"And with it, we can destroy and take over any part of the Drakmoon Forest in the blink of an eye!"

Everyone smiled devilishly, knowing they were going to succeed in less than 24 hours. Howlblane would take over the bunker systems and all the werepyres could destroy the werewolves' HQ in one strike.

"This is going to be fun."

**To be continued…**


	8. Frontal Assault

**Chronicles of Drakmoon**

Part 2 to It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

**Chapter 6 (part 2): Frontal Assault**

"Jesus Christ, how could you guys forget it's National Werepyre Killing Spree Day?!" asked Sheemer.

"Just shut up and get to the fucking hotel!" yelled Camel-Tail.

Sheemer and Camel-Tail kicked open the hotel door and shot a Werepyre several times, knocking his body over the service counter.

"You and Shank go find Mossin and Chevsky; we'll take the lower level." commanded Camel-Tail.

"Roger that." I said.

Shank and I ran up the stairs, both of holding a SigP228 and an Uzi.

"Wolf! Three o'clock!" yelled Shank.

I dove around the corner and gunned down a werepyres, collecting his ammo. Shank threw a knife into another werepyre's neck and I shot another werepyre three times in the face.

OWW!! SONUVABITCH!!" yelled Shank when a large werepyre bit him hard on the stomach.

He took out a knife and shoved him against the wall, stabbing him several times over in the torso. Both of us hid behind a grey container when a well-known werepyre came out blasting at us with a shotgun.

"Who's the werepyre with red fur?"

"Xan'vocif Dytze. That guys worth a couple grand if we deliver his body to Toe-Jam."

"Fine, I'll take him."

"No' I'll take him!"

"I gotta pay rent for that motel I'm stayin' at Shank."

"So find the Soc Train Express in a K'eld and you'll be set for life!"

"What?"

"Nothin.'"

The both of us waited until he was out of shells and we shot Dytze five times in the face with our Sigs.

"What were you blabbin' about with that Soc Train Express?" I asked.

"I can't say much except that The Drakel keeps this stockpile of their cash inputs on this train system underground. We always try to rob it, but we're always one minute too late."

"How much money are we talkin' about mate???"

Shank shrugged. "Half a billion. Why?"

My eyes grew so wide I thought they'd pop out of their sockets. "HALF A BILLION--"

"SHH! SHUT UP! The werepyres don't know about it and they don't need to know. If Hrhimvoc-Svilt finds out I told you he'll hang me by my sac so forget what you heard right now."

"Whatever you say mate."

The two of us entered one of the main atriums to see several werepyres lying dead on the floor. Mossin and Chevsky were still nowhere to be found.

"Hey, Chevsky!" I yelled.

We ducked when a werewolf tried shooting at us in the head.

"It's us Chevsky! Calm down!"

Chevsky came from hiding, having a black eye and a couple scars on his cheek.

"What the hell's going on? Me and Mossin were just getting some blowjobs and then some werepyres just storm in and start shooting at us!"

"It's National Werepyre…you were sitting here getting a goddamn blowjob?!?" I yelled.

"What else am I gonna do at four in the morning?!"

"It doesn't matter now. It's National Werepyre Killing Spree Day and Kingswerst and the others forgot about it. Where's your partner Mossin?" asked Shank.

"He bolted and took his shotgun with him. He's probably in the basement or the lunchrooms by now."

**8:30 a.m.**

Mossin was trapped inside an air vent hanging inside, his arms and legs propelled between the walls. If he relaxed them even a little bit, he'd fall to the basement and end up on the table, possible breaking his legs. Urvag and some other werepyres were in the room underneath Mossin and another werepyre was in the room above Mossin. In other words, he was trapped.

"So are you gonna come out or what?"

"Fuck you Urvag. I heard all about you!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I used to be just like you. Just a rookie werewolf who got caught by some werepyres and didn't know what to do. Until I let Howlblane bite me that is. If you think about it Mossin, werepyres are just werewolves with wings and fangs; I don't see what's so wrong about it."

"It's not the wings Urvag; it's your loyalty to your leader. You broke that loyalty the minute those fangs entered your neck and that's why we're all so pissed at you. So what'd Howlblane say to make you his bitch huh? You get to tame some earth dragons and in return he'll pay more than you could ever imagine or what?"

"…"

"It's funny Urvag. We got some Werewolf warrior nicknamed Pussy, but from what I hear you're the pussy Urvag."

Urvag got his Desert Eagle and shot at the wall five times, almost hitting Mossin in the ear.

"Toss a grenade; that'll smoke him out."

One of Urvag's cronies pulled the pin out of a grenade and was about to toss it up at Mossin. But since many werewolves had excellent hearing, Mossin dropped down and kicked the grenade back into the room before it was tossed up. The grenade was kicked so hard that it was lodged right into a werepyre's throat. He tried screaming out help, but it blocked his vocal cords and he was rendered defenseless. Urvag threw his body into the vents and took cover as the werepyre's head exploded.

"Damnit! Get down to the basement right now!"

* * *

Another werewolf went down when he was blasted away by an SMG.

"Get down!" I yelled, jumping over a red werewolf and shooting a werepyre four times in the face.

"This isn't possible. We're losing too many werewolves!" yelled the werewolf I just saved.

"Shut up and call for backup!" yelled Shank.

"We're spread pretty thin here. We got Lycans all over the planet battling the werepyres. We can't spare that many more!"

I sighed. "What's your name?"

"Everyone calls me Pitz."

"Pitz? Like armpit?"

"Yeah, wanna sniff 'em?"

"No, no, I can smell 'em from here; I see why you got the name. You just get through training Pitz?"

"Yeah, just yesterday."

"Well listen _pup, _you got two options here: Either call for backup or you can go home knowing we're gonna beat the shit outta you. Your choice." I said.

Pitz gulped and took out his radio. "Alright then. This is--"

"Why don't you just go to the roof and howl real loud?" suggested Shank.

"…I knew that."

Pitz ran up the stairs and to the roof, getting ready to howl. Shank and I both scoffed and muttered, "Rookie."

**9:00 a.m.**

Snow was fluttering on the werepyres' noses and covering their fur white as they drew towards the frozen weapons bunker in the Freezetar Wastelands. Lucky fir them they had wings, otherwise they might crack the ice on the lake and drown in frozen blue tar.

"Alright, so let me get this straight Howlblane. You're gonna take over the main firing control center for this facility all by yourself??" asked Scowlblane.

"I got a QBZ-95 rifle, a long sword, and my claws. What else do I need brother?"

"A brain." joked Skunky.

"That offer for a breath mint is still open Skunky…"

"Shut up Howlblane! That's joke's getting old!"

"You absolutely sure you want to do this alone?" asked Scowlblane.

"I can't risk you all getting killed now, can I? If I don't come back in the next 20 minutes, I want you and Skunky to go in next."

"Yeah, whatever. Just go in and kill all those guards now will you?" said Skunky.

Howlblane cracked his neck and sighed.

"Here goes nothing."

**To be continued…**


	9. The Bat Creature from Hell

**Chronicles of Drakmoon**

Part 3 to It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

**A/N: **A lot of this chapter is similar to a flash series named Madness Combat. See if you can find the similarities.

**Chapter 6 (part 3): The Bat Creature from Hell**

Howlblane's wings fluttered in the cold wind as he flew stealthily to the compound. He had to make sure that he didn't fly too low, because if the wind became violent, he might get knocked down and would fall through the thin ice. Howlblane reduced his wing flapping and landed on the snow of the other island. He crept behind the building and hid behind a few crates in order to avoid being spotted by a Freezetar guard. All the Freezetar's were normal humans wearing white and blue coats, baggy pants and navy blue boots. All of them were equipped with a variety of weapons that could kill any creature that posed as a threat to the factory.

Howlblane slowly walked behind the Freezetar grunt and snapped his neck, throwing his body in the crates. Then he cocked his QBZ-95 and waited at the door. A couple of trainees were walking inside, flashing their identification badges at the guards. Suddenly, Howlblane busted in and started shooting two of them several times in the head and chest. Then he stabbed a guard backwards in the head and sliced off another guard's head. One guard tried to shoot him, but he flipped over the guard and jammed his sword in his scalp, shooting him twice in the back of the head. The QBZ-95 clicked; Howlblane had run out of ammo. He picked up an MP5K off the floor and shot a guard seven times in the chest and face. Two more guards appeared: One in front of him and one from behind. Howlblane quickly grabbed a Beretta Px4 Storm off the floor and shot the guard in front of him twice. Then he shot the guard behind him several times, without looking.

Howlblane ignored the bodies and continued to travel down the corridor, his footsteps pattering on the cold, blue tiles. Two guards appeared from the front door, armed with AK-47s. He shot one guard three times in the face and gunned down the other with his MP5K. A guard came in from behind him, choking Howlblane with his elbow. He head butted him and stabbed the guard in the torso, shooting him with his five remaining bullets. His MP5K and Beretta Px4 Storm were dry, and he needed more ammo.

Howlblane grabbed an IMI Galil rifle and shot a guard with a five bullet burst, killing him. He did the same with another guard. Two more guards came through the door, shooting in his direction. Another five gunshots came from the IMI Galil, and one of the guards was heavily wounded. Howlblane shot the wounded guard in the head and the last one in the chest twice. A guard snuck up behind him, shooting three bullets at him. Howlblane riskingly held the end of the gun, moving it out of his position.

"OW! FUCK!" shouted Howlblane.

He burned his hand when the bullets left the barrel, causing the edge of the gun to heat up quickly. Howlblane punched the guard five times in the face and grabbed his throat, violently ripping off his head. Howlblane quickly ran into a different corridor, carrying the severed head. Then he bashed it against another guard's head until it broke apart all over the place. Howlblane grabbed another guard by the nose and lashed out at his face three times, scarring it severely. He threw the guard's body at the wall, breaking his back. Now a whole fleet of guards were inside the corridor, all of them carrying katanas and nightsticks. Howlblane sighed.

"You guys just don't know when to quit, do you?"

* * *

Mossin was in the laundry basement, trying to escape the ambush and get back upstairs to his Werewolf clan.

"Fucking National Werepyre Killing Spree Day. What idiot even thought of this holiday in the first place?!" muttered Mossin to himself.

As Mossin began to stroll down the hallway, a gunshot abruptly went off, hitting Mossin in the torso. He shouted and held his side, hiding behind a metal bin used for collecting towels. The werepyre continued firing at the bin and Mossin started to push it forward, up until it pinned the werepyre into the wall, killing him. Mossin took his Glock 29 and started shooting more werepyres. One of them was hit five times in the face and chest and he died instantly. Two of the werepyres nearly shot off his ear when Mossin tripped over a puddle of water, falling right in front of them. Mossin grabbed an iron and squirted the werepyres in the face, blinding them for a couple of seconds. But all Mossin needed was a couple of seconds to kill the duo. He quickly put the iron on his face, burning off a lot of his skin, searing into his tissue. He also kicked the other guard and wrapped the iron cord around his neck, strangling him.

It was all happening so fast; he couldn't believe it. Mossin yanked the iron cord and broke the werepyre's neck. Afterward, he pressed the iron so hard against the other werepyre's head that it began to burn his skull, causing him to scream loudly. Eventually, the werepyre succumbed to his wounds. A werepyre snuck up behind Mossin and bashed him in the head with his gun, then fired it. Mossin moved his face a split second before it managed to impact him underneath his eye. However, the bullet still managed to scar his face. Mossin bit his hand and tripped him so he'd drop it. Then Mossin slammed his foot on the back of his head and kicked his body away, killing the werepyre.

"Anyone else?! C'MON!!!"

The adrenaline was rushing through Mossin like never before. Mossin was ready to rip someone's head off, and today would probably be the day where he'd be able to do it. It was at that time when Urvag decided to show his face, holding this elite katana with a gold and ruby handle. Urvag began to charge towards Mossin, making a loud battle cry, ready to cut Mossin apart. When Urvag got close to Mossin, he simply whipped the iron at Urvag's head and bit him in the neck. Mossin continued to bite harder and harder, until his whole throat just exploded out of his neck. Urvag dropped the sword and his body slowly perched forward, falling on the ground. Mossin spat out the contents of his throat and kicked his corpse.

"Pussy." he muttered.

**Meanwhile…**

Howlblane was in the control room, holding another sword and an AK-74. Howlblane was sick and tired of being "creative" with the guards and just wanted to kill all the guards as soon and as quickly as possible. So he just sat there, running in the hallway, shooting every single guard in the chest or head, until he ran out of bullets.

"Shit." he muttered, dropping the gun.

Howlblane took out his sword and sliced two guards in the middle of his head and chest. Howlblane turned around, holding up his sword just in case he saw another guard magically appear out of nowhere trying to kill him. He sighed when the coast was clear, pulling a radio out of his pocket to contact Wylckik and the others.

"Wylckik?" he asked, panting heavily.

"Yeah?"

"The firing…the firing control center…is clear. All the guards are dead. …Send the troops in."

* * *

Wylckik and a couple of other werepyres came into the room that Howlblane was in, glancing at the various dead bodies all over the place.

"Damn, Howlblane! Who pissed you off this morning?" asked Wylckik.

"…You're welcome." he huffed.

"What is this, like…47 guards in here?"

"56, I counted. Not even one of 'em could lay a scratch on me."

Howlblane chuckled weakly.

"Do you know what this weapon does Howlblane?" asked Cruzite, a blue werepyre wearing orange shorts and a shirt.

"It fires a beam of electricity and napalm that when mixed together can create a bomb big enough to level a whole city."

"So we aim it at the Werewolves' HQ--"

"No, we aim it at other cities that are allies with the Werewolves. They'll be compelled to go help them out and figure out how to repair their relationships. While they're doing that, we'll storm their HQ and take any valuable equipment we can find. After that, we'll do the same thing with the vampires. And THEN…we'll use this weapon to wipe out all of those bloodsuckers and moon worshippers until we're the only race left ruling Drakmoon."

Howlblane chuckled evilly to himself, knowing what was going to happen to the vampire and werewolf race. And it was all due to National Werepyre Killing Spree Day.

"You never cease to surprise me Howlblane."

**To be continued…**


	10. Laser Wings

**Chronicles of Drakmoon**

Part 4 to It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

**Chapter 6 (part 4): Laser Wings**

Over seven hours have gone by, and not a single werepyre has been spotted doing any sort of suspicious activity. Sure, we've encountered several grunts and low-level subordinates, but other than that, nothing big has happened. After we retook the hotel and saved Mossin and Chevsky, we teamed up with each other and began to scout Drakmoon forest. This has happened before…I get this feeling in the pit of my bowels that makes me think something bad is about to happen. Of course, it could just be indigestion or gas.

"I don't get it. First we get caught up in a hotel ambush, and the next thing you know, everything just gets quiet like nothing every happened!" said Mossin.

"Something stinks here, and I don't mean that literally." said Chevsky.

"Good. I thought one of you guys would've smelt the garlic on my breath." muttered Mossin.

The four of us began to walk down a dirt path, kicking up several puffs of dirt with our tails and crunching the leaves with our bare feet. Everything was silent and completely peaceful. Actually, if you get past the gloomy atmosphere and the fact that this forest is ruled by thousands if not millions of evil creatures like dragon and werewolves, this would be a nice place for even a human to live.

"Whoa!" coughed Sheemer. "I know that rank odor from anywhere! It's Dakvar and his small band of cronies!"

The rest of us sniffed the air several times and groaned loudly, holding our noses. Believe it or not, but there's stenches even wolves like me can't stand. I never knew a werepyre could stink this bad!

"Who's this Dakvar bloke? He reeks as bad as Stinky does!" I asked.

All of us were staring several yards away next to a tree, seeing a fairly bulky werepyre wearing an orange and yellow striped shirt and dark blue shorts. His nose and fur color was red. Surrounding that werepyre were three more gruff lookin' beasts, all of whom smelled horrible.

"Dakvar's a member of Howlblane's weapons smuggling syndicate. He ships in all of the weapons from all over Mars, making deals with human arms traffickers from Earth. He's pretty low on the syndicate's food chain, but I think Kingswerst would be impressed if we bagged him." said Chevsky.

"What's with the funky smell?" I asked.

"Dakvar tends to bathe in his own excrement." said Sheemer.

I shrugged. "I guess that makes sense. Predators tend to be distracted and/or deemed unable to smell because the poop masks theirs scents."

The four of us quietly crept through the trees and began to find a way to ambush the smelly werepyres before they caught our scent.

"Awright…Sheemer?"

"Yeah?"

"You take this M24 and go hide in that tree over there. Take out one of Dakvar's bodyguards so you can startle them; they'll be confused by the noise. After that, Chevsky, Mossin and I will take on Dakvar and his remaining two guards."

"What about Dakvar?" asked Chevsky.

"Don't kill him. I got this gut feelin' that he possess some valuable information. We're gonna have to interrogate him."

"If you say so."

I tossed Sheemer the M24 and he quickly jumped up onto a tree branch, cocking the sniper rifle and taking aim. Meanwhile, the two rookie werewolves and I holstered our knives and looked down upon the four werepyres from a large rock, waiting for Sheemer to fire.

"Wait for it…" I warned.

Sheemer fired the shot and it zoomed right through a werepyre's nasal cavity, shattering his skull and spreading blood all over the place. The werepyres became very alert and took out their weapons, looking for the assailant.

"What the fuck was that?!" shouted Dakvar.

"NOW!!" I shouted.

The three of us jumped off the rocks and charged towards the werepyres, ready to slice them into pieces. Dakvar turned around and fired his pistol at us, which we narrowly avoided. I jump-kicked Dakvar in the face and his body was tossed to a tree. Chevsky cut a werepyre's wrist and he dropped his pistol in the process. He quickly took out his own knife and the two of them began to viciously slash their knives at one another, until Chevsky was slashed across the chest. The werepyre used this to his advantage and was about to stab him in the face, at least until Sheemer blasted the werepyre in the chest. The werepyre groaned loudly and clutched it with his left hand, gravely injured. Chevsky quickly recovered from his wound and stabbed the werepyre in his heart, violently twisting the blade and shattering his ribs. Both Mossin and I were dealing with the other werepyre, who was shooting several blasts of shotgun shells from his Saiga-12 Russian shotgun. Mossin tried to jump over the werepyre to slash him in the back, but the werepyre hit him with the butt of his gun and knocked him down, ready to blast his brains out.

"Shit!" yelled Mossin.

I quickly grabbed Mossin and dragged his body out the way just a second before the werepyre tried to kill him.

"Damnit!"

The werepyre's out of ammo now…perfect. As he began to reload his shotgun, I punched him in the face three times and kicked the shotgun out of his hands. He returned the favor by kicking me in the torso and biting me in the chest. I kneed him in the chin and grabbed his tongue, slowly ripping it out of his mouth like it was a piece of taffy.

"Hey, Mossin! Catch!"

I threw the tongue at Mossin and he caught it in his teeth, chewing it slowly and swallowing it. As for the werepyre, I put him out of his misery by slamming him to the ground and stomping on his back, crushing his spine. Now that all the guards are dead, we can deal with Dakvar. Sheemer jumped out the tree and grouped up with the rest of us, walking around Dakvar.

"What should we do with him?" asked Chevsky.

Sheemer sighed and kicked Dakvar over so that he was lying on his back. Then he purposely sat on his face, wiggling his butt on his nose.

"Let's ask him when he wakes up." said Sheemer.

"That could be hours from now! How are you gonna wake him up--"

Sheemer hiked up his right leg and passed gas right on Dakvar's farce, causing him to smell the rotten gas and jolt himself awake.

"Yeah, that works." I chuckled.

Dakvar shouted out a muffled protest and tried to jerk Sheemer off of his face.

"You can get up now."

Sheemer got off Dakvar and let him get some breathing room, allowing him to cough and breathe fresh air.

"Who the hell are you guys?!" he asked.

"What does it look like? We're werewolves sent here to kill you!"

Dakvar scoffed. "Maybe that explains why your breath reeks of garlic."

Mossin stabbed Dakvar in the kidney, causing him to groan and cough up blood.

"At least I don't bathe in my own piles of shit Dakvar!" retorted Mossin.

"Y'know what, let's just skip past all of these comments about werewolves and bad breath and foul odors and blah, blah, blah, and how's about you just spill your guts an' tell us what Howlblane is planning, awright?" I said.

Dakvar sighed heavily, scratching the back of his head and trying to figure out what he should say.

"I'll talk to you guys after you take a bath--"

Before Dakvar could finish his slandering comment, I punched him in the throat four times until he fell on the ground. Then I kicked him several times in the face before stomping on his thigh and cracking it. I kneeled next to him and started to talk to him again.

"Let's try this one more time: What…is Howlblane…planning?"

"Fuck you!"

I took out a knife and growled gutturally as I slowly moved it towards his right eye.

"What're you doing?!"

"Let me tell you how this is gonna work. First, I'm gonna cut out your right eye, then I'm gonna cut out your left eye, then I'll cut out your kidneys and then I'll cut out your spleen. I'm gonna keep cutting you and cutting you and cutting you and cutting you until you tell us what it is we want to know!"

"You wouldn't dare!"

"I do this for a living! I'm a werewolf assassin and I'm proud of it! Throughout my past lifetime, I've slaughtered over 200,000 lives and I have no regrets, not a single one! So what makes you think I'll spare you?!"

That was a lie. There were hundreds of deaths I've caused that I've regretted in the past. But there were thousands more that I've killed without losing any sleep at all. I'm pretty sure if I kill this guy, I won't feel anything at all. Just another kill count for the Lycans. Maybe I should just kill him now and let Kingswerst and his lieutenants eat his corpse. I moved the knife to his retina and began to slice it.

"STOP! STOP!! Okay, I'll tell you! I'll tell you!"

"What's the plan hybrid!?" demanded Chevsky.

"Howlblane and his top lieutenants are supposed to take over the Frazlle Cannon and aim it at one of your Lycan affiliated cities!"

"Why is that a bad thing?"

"Are you an idiot? All those cities are owned by Kingswerst and are filled to the brim with Lycan production and personnel. Drugs, weapons, werewolf captains, money storage facilities, it's all in those cities. If any one of them gets destroyed, you Lycans will be set back for several months! It'll take you furry dogs forever before you can get the supplies back!"

"…My God. Where is the Frazlle Cannon?"

"It's…it's…"

"WHERE IS IT!!?"

"IT'S IN THE FREEZETAR WASTELANDS!!" screamed Dakvar, just as I was about to cut out his eye.

The four of us looked at the panting subdued werepyre, wondering what we should do with him.

"Oi, Sheemer! What's the bounty for this werepyre's head on a plate?" I asked.

"Not much. Just a little over four grand. He's not that high on our hit list." he responded.

I shrugged. "Every penny helps!"

I jabbed the werepyre in the eye and violently scraped the inside of his eye sockets, scooping out his eye. Then I slashed his face diagonally so that his other eye was scarred as well. Dakvar was dead.

"Damn, Wolf. You're pretty fuckin' badass!" said Chevsky.

"I just figured out a nickname for you: Screw-eyes!" said Sheemer.

* * *

Wylckik and many, many other werepyres were inside the main Frazlle Cannon control room, trying to figure out how to fire it at one of Kingswerst's cities. So far, the plan was going very badly; Wylckik and Scowlblane accidentally broke the triggering mechanism, so they needed to find an alternate way to fire the cannon.

"You mind giving us a help here Scowlblane?!" shouted Howlblane.

Scowlblane simply leaned over and broke wind next to his older brother.

"That's about all the help you're getting from me." chuckled Scowlblane.

Howlblane sighed exasperatedly. "Fine, just don't touch anything. I don't want you breaking another valuable mechanism to this cannon."

Wylckik shouted when he was shocked in his hand after touching an electrical circuit box. Amazingly, this risky maneuver is what powered up the cannon again. All of the lights began to flicker into motion and everything sprang back to life in a mere few seconds. Wylckik laughed devilishly.

"I got it! Howlblane, I got the cannon to work!"

"Excellent. Now all we have to do is choose a target before anyone realizes what our plans are."

"How's about we target Hilmont? That's Kingswerst's central city devoted to deliver him weapons and food. I think one of his generals is located there too." asked Kluvax.

Kluvax was a werepyre with orange fur and beige wings, wearing dark brown shorts and a short-sleeves shirt. He used to be a Russian human being, but a werepyre bit him when he traveled to Mars and he's been a werepyre ever since then.

"No, Hilmont is too populated to destroy now. If we destroy Hilmont now, it'll just give Kingswerst a reason to declare war on us now. But if we destroy a smaller city, such as Brakcon, he'll think we're holding Hilmont hostage and will have no chose but to succumb to our demands." said Howlblane.

"Skunky, press that button right there, it'll activate the rotation of the barrel." said Wylckik.

Skunky pressed a large blue button and heard a loud whir and rumble from above him, indicating that the cannon began to rotate and spin.

"Okay, now turn this knob at the exact same time I pull this green lever. I think it should arm the weapon."

Skunky breathed heavily and put his hand on the knob, waiting for Wylckik to pull the lever or start a countdown.

"3…2…1…NOW!"

Skunky quickly turned the knob just as Wylckik yanked the lever down. The cannon whirred again and a loud beep was heard on the transparent console. The arming mechanism was now in motion.

"Okay…now let me see here…"

Wylckik grabbed a lever near the console and began to move it left and right, trying to move the cannon to a well placed position in order for it to take out Brakcon. It took a while for him to find the latitude and longitude of the center of the city, but when he found it, he pressed another button to lock the laser cannon into place. Now, it was ready to fire. Wylckik chuckled again.

"This is it. You ready?" asked Wylckik.

Howlblane walked over to the console and looked down at a red button that said fire on it. He laughed and smiled devilishly.

"Goodbye motherfuckers." said Howlblane in a calm, but tad psychotic tone.

He made a fist and pounded it right on the fire button. The bunker rumbled and shook a while before a loud yellow laser beam zoomed from the bunker into the sky, aiming right for the city of Brakcon.

* * *

"???"

"What is it Mossin?" asked Chevsky.

"I thought I just heard something--"

Everyone one of us gasped loudly when we looked up and saw a mighty laser beam head straight for some city not far away from our position.

"Oh my God, that's heading right for Brakcon!!" yelled Sheemer.

Before anyone of us could do anything, we were blinded temporarily bright yellow flash hundreds of miles away from us. We also went deaf and could only hear a loud tone ringing for a full 30 seconds before we could hear again. But at this point, I'd be better off not hearing anything, since what we heard was a distant explosion. It looked like a nuclear bomb had gone off and instantly incinerated Brakcon beyond recognition.

"We have to tell Kingswerst now before that laser does anymore damage!"

"If we do that, it may take hours just to find him. By then, it'll be too late!" I said.

"So what do you think we should do?" asked Mossin.

"Lasers that powerful take at least a half hour or longer to cool off and reload itself. We need to get to the Freezetar Wastelands and find that cannon as soon as possible!"

**To be continued…**


	11. Goin' In

**Chronicles of Drakmoon**

Conclusion: Wolf and his teammates storm the compound on Freezetar Wastelands and come into contact with Wylckik. 

**Chapter 6 (part 5): Goin' In**

One hour. That's all the time Howlblane and his hybrids have left to do their damage to this planet. It's eleven o'clock right now and currently, Chevsky, Mossin, Sheemer and I are gazing onto the small frozen island located within the freezing waters of the Freezetar Wastelands. All of us had been briefed by Margost-Lyl and Stinky and they told us that everyone has to go. The werepyres already embarrassed us by assaulting the Frazzle Cannon compound, let alone succeeding. And it doesn't really help that they managed to incinerate thousands of Lycans with that cannon, so they're pretty pissed off at the werepyres right now.

We were all carrying a heavy set of weapons right now, stuff like M24 sniper rifles, AK-74s, and duel M1911 pistols. Of course, we had modifications for the weapons, such as suppressors for the assault rifles and red-dot scopes for them too. Kingswerst said it'd take roughly 80 werepyres to successfully invade this place, but some of our sources said that Howlblane and his brother were among the group that flew inside. So I take it there's…25 werepyres, including Howlblane and his brother Scowlblane. This should be very…exciting.

"So…who wants to go first?" asked Mossin after a long silence.

I didn't answer, nor did the other two Lycans at my side. We simply started stroking our claws and fingers on our assault rifles while exhaling hard enough to see our breath in the chilling wind. We weren't afraid to go inside the compound and our toes weren't stuck in the snow, but we didn't want to move. We wanted to get pumped for the invasion, bottle in all the anger and hatred before we released it in the battle. So…we just stood there, staring at the island with our hearts pounding and our breath floating in the wind. But after a few minutes, I instructed Mossin to take out his sniper rifle.

"See that werepyre over there?" I asked.

"The one patrolling around those boxes over there?"

"Yeah. He's gonna turn around that corner to go say something to the guard on the other side. Nick him in the brains--"

"Wait, what?"

I sighed exasperatedly. Why is it so hard for someone to translate British dialect?! "Shoot him in the head. The other werepyre's gonna hear and see the body so shoot him before he can radio 'em in."

"Hey! Just cause I'm a rookie doesn't mean I don't know how to kill multiple targets at one time! I'm not stupid!"

"So stop cleanin' out your ear with your gun!!"

Mossin put his pistol back into his pocket after scraping some wax out of his right ear.

"Sorry." Mossin holstered his M24 and looked through the periscope, waiting for the werepyre to come into view. It took him a bit of time to get the red dot to shine on the werepyre's skull, but when he did, he fired the rifle. I heard a faint splatter and saw the werepyre drop down faster than a diaper-wearing dragon after its eaten 20 pounds of laxatives. Wait, I haven't seen that happen yet… Whatever, the point is, he fell down fast, okay? Anyways, like I said, the other guard turned around the corner after hearing the shot to go check up on his friend, but he suffered the same fate too.

"Perimeter's clear." confirmed Mossin.

"Awright. Let's go pups!" I said, sounding a little like Margost-Lyl.

We ran down the snow infested hill and jumped into the lake around the compound. Not literally, because we would've froze to death in a few minutes, but we managed to hop from ice block to ice block until we reached the island and began walking up the hill.

"You an' Mossin go that way Chevsky. We'll go through the main door."

"Got it!"

Mossin and Chevsky began to run to the other side of the compound. "Oi!! Hold up a second!"

Mossin and Chevsky screeched to a halt. "What?"

"Try to be as quiet as possible. I know there aren't too many werepyres in here, but don't waltz around shootin' at the ceiling okay?"

"We get it! God, we're not a bunch of fuckin' babies so stop worrying about us! We'll take care of ourselves!"

"Okay then."

So we split up and entered the compound through different directions. Sheemer and I kicked open the door and were surprised to see that a lot of the dead bodies were still lying around on the floor, heavily mutilated. This was definitely the work of Howlblane. I'm actually surprised that no one devoured the bodies already.

"No werepyres. Hmm…guessing they're all in the control room." suggested Sheemer.

"Fine, let's head there first. Don't want any of these blokes to spot us--"

"Where's that guy Lokil? I thought he was supposed to radio in after he checked the perimeter every 10 minutes." said a werepyre in the distance.

We quickly threw ourselves into an abandoned room and waited for the werepyre to walk by. We locked his scent into our nostrils and waited for the guy to walk by.

"Go check on him. He's probably just dozing off but make sure nothing's happened to him."

"Okay Wylckik."

"Fuck, did he just say Wylckik?" whispered Sheemer.

"What of it? Is he some other high-ups werepyre I should know about?" I asked.

"He's slowly rising ranks within Skunky's administration."

"Who's this bloke Skunky?!"

Sheemer sighed heavily. "You haven't been reading your book have you? This guy Skunky is one of Howlblane's chief bodyguards and he's one of the directors within his mercenary syndicate. Wylckik's one step away from gaining Skunky's position as a director of the mercenary syndicate."

The footsteps of the werepyre were getting closer and we could tell that he was right next to the door. I kicked it open and the door whacked the werepyre right in the face. He was thrown on his back and his gun when flying. Sheemer took out his suppressed AK and shot a burst of bullets at his torso…before planting another two in his brain. We walked forward and looked left and right. Then we looked left again and heard a toilet flush.

"Okay, you go that way; I'll go this way." I said, directing Sheemer to the left.

He walked up to the bathroom door and knocked on it, checking to see if a werepyre was inside.

"Hey! I'm taking a shit! Go away Wylckik!"

Sheemer smirked and fired his rifle at the door multiple times in a row, ignoring the wood shavings flying in his face. He kicked open the door and watched as a werepyre with his shorts pulled down slouched over to the floor, with at least four holes in his neck. A werepyre nearby heard the door busting open and walked out the door I was standing next…which is when I stabbed the hybrid in the Adam's apple. He started to cough up blood before I slid my blade upward into his chin, practically cutting his head wide open. I ran over to Sheemer and sighed after seeing the body.

"That's low mate."

"What?"

"You shot a guy on the shitter!"

"So? What's so bad about that?"

"It's equivalent to killin' someone in church."

Sheemer warily eyeballed the body before he gasped dramatically.

"Shit, am I going to Hell?"

**Meanwhile…**

Howlblane and Scowlblane and some other werepyres were currently resting in the control center gathering the coordinates for the next target.

"Alright, our work here is done." said Howlblane.

"What do you want us to do Leader?" asked Gitcozty.

"You, Cruzite and Wylckik are gonna stay here. Chances are, that dirty canine Kingswerst is gonna release some of his mercenaries to re-take the compound. The last thing we need is to lose this facility after we've planned so long to acquire it."

"What about you and your brother and the others?"

"We have another errand to run back at the castle. Besides, it's almost midnight and National Werepyre Killing Spree Day is over. I have to prepare for any repercussions from the Lycans. Hell, we've even struck back at the vampires so they might try something too."

Howlblane gathered his guns and troops and began to retreat from the compound.

"Let's go werepyres!!"

"Hey Skunky, that offer for a breath mint--"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, just blow it out your ass Scowlblane. We all know my breath stinks." said Skunky.

As the senior werepyres left the compound via wings, Wylckik entered the control room and analyzed the increased performance.

"How much longer until the next target is locked on?"

"We still need another half hour for the laser to charge up and then we're all set." said Cruzite.

"Good. Howlblane will be very proud--"

Their conversation was cut off by three gunshots in the distance, which sprang the werepyres to life.

"What the hell?!"

"Calm down. You and Gitcozty go patrol the corridors until you find the intruder. I'll hold down the fort."

* * *

"Goddamnit Chevsky! I told you not to do that!!" yelled Mossin.

"I'm sorry. Next time, I'll just let the werepyre shoot you in the back!"

"Thank you!"

"Wolf said there were at least 25 werepyres in here, including Howlblane and his brother. They already left, so it should be 23 now and four werepyres have been confirmed dead so that's 19."

"Regardless, all those werepyres are on full alert now. We need to be careful."

Chevsky and Mossin reloaded their weapons and began to walk forward, scavenging the area for more werepyres. They had their backs against each other so that Mossin was walking forward and Chevsky was walking backward. They heard the sounds of three werepyres running along the cold floor and they quickly threw their bodies behind two stacks of shelves. The grey furred werepyres whizzed right past them holstering AUGs. But suddenly, one of them got a strong whiff of Mossin and his garlic breath and he began to growl under his throat.

"Something wrong?"

"…There might be--"

Chevsky fired a bullet into the werepyre's skull from behind and waited for his body to fall to the ground. The other two werepyres reacted, but reacted too late and they were riddled with bullets, falling backwards with nearly ten bullets all over their body. Lucky for Mossin and Chevsky, they remembered to put their suppressors on their guns.

"See? Nothing to it! Now's there only 16." said Chevsky.

* * *

"Howlblane said this place was secured! Why am I finding dead werepyres around the compound?!" yelled Cruzite.

"Shut the fuck up and stop whining! Go check on Haw's squad and see if they found the intruders yet. I'll go this other way." said Gitcozty.

"Remember the buddy system Gitcozty?"

"No one gives a shit! Just go already!"

The two werepyres spilt off from each other, unaware that they were both going to die by either my hands or Sheemer's. In fact, it didn't take us long at all to find Gitcozty accompanied with another werepyre. Both of them were holstering dual Berettas loaded with fire encased bullets, enough to take out a standard werewolf like me or Sheemer, so we need to be very careful. Sheemer and I peeked over the corner of the wall we were taking cover behind and noticed one of the guards stopped patrolling the area to scratch his foot. This is when we decided to strike. I scurried over to Gitcozty and knocked one of the pistols out of his hand and he simultaneously knocked out mine. We each had a pistol aimed at the other's face. Both of us fired at the exact moment and ironically, we jerked our heads in the opposite direction of the gun. At this point, we both knocked the guns away and started fighting each other. I had no idea what happened to Gitcozty's accomplice, but I'm guessing Sheemer already dealt with him.

Gitcozty punched me twice in the nose and I blocked the third punch and wound up kicking him in the torso before tripping him with my foot. I attempted to stomp his skull into nothing but dust, but he rolled away at the last second, so I wasn't successful. I gained a sense of relief when I saw a gun holster at his side aiming down. Instead of grabbing the gun from him, I pulled the trigger while the gun was still in the holster, inevitably shooting him in the foot. Gitcozty howled in pain and was about to grasp his foot, but he remembered that he had to deal with me first. Unfortunately, I already grabbed his Beretta off the ground. Just as he was about to stab me with a concealed knife, I shot him three times in the heart and killed him instantly. I turned around and found out that Sheemer scalped the other werepyre, so we're in the clear now.

"This is a lot easier than I thought it would be. You sure this Wylckik ain't settin' up a trap for us?"

"I doubt it. Wylckik isn't the type who'd set up a trap this quickly. If anything, he's focused on firing that laser at another one of our cities."

"Well we better get to the control room before that laser charges, don'tcha think?" I suggested.

* * *

"Where the hell is Cruzite and Gitcozty?" asked an anxious Wylckik.

Another 10 minutes had passed and we had already killed most of the werepyres in the compound. It turns out the Mossin had found Cruzite and the two of them ended up getting into a fist fight. After the little brawl was over, Cruzite tried to stab Mossin in the head…with no success as the grey werewolf jammed his own knife into his eye socket. Guess that means the remaining werepyres are located in the control room.

"I can't reach them on the radio."

Wylckik growled sharply. "Someone already got to 'em."

And that's when we showed up to ruin the party. I shot the werepyre on Wylckik's right in the back seven times while Chevsky took out the other guard by blasting his brains out. Just as we were about to kill Wylckik, he sprung into the air and started flying all over the ceiling like an annoying bat. But hey, I suppose that's what he is.

"Stay still so I can shoot you!!" yelled an irritated Mossin.

This is a lot aggravating than you think. It's like shooting a fruit fly out of the sky with an iron gliding across your back hair. How that makes any sense in this sort of situation I'm not sure, but that's what this feels like. I yelled ferociously and began to shoot at random areas in the ceiling, hoping one of the bullets would make contact with the flying wolf.

"Will ya stop flappin' your wings for one second?!!?" I protested.

Wylckik smirked at us and took out a set of large knives, throwing all of them at us. I kicked Mossin and Sheemer out of the way and wound up getting hit by two of the knives in the process. But this was what I was expecting because now I can fire away at Wylckik with no interference. So I took out my M1911 and shoot Wylckik several times in the chest, knocking him to the ground.

"Awright, everything's clear. You guys go shut down the machine and I'll go check on Wylckik here."

"Got it Wolf." said Sheemer.

I slowly walked over to Wylckik's body to confirm if he was dead or not. The second I kneeled over to his body, Wylckik sprang to life and stabbed me in the torso, leaving the knife there so he could guide it upwards into my heart. I grabbed his hands as he quickly stood up and now the two of us were staring at each other eye to eye. I was about to shout out Sheemer's name, but he smiled devilishly and I saw this…twinkle in his left eye. It's always the one thing I hate to see in my enemy; that stupid twinkle in their eye. It always means that someone's gonna fuck you over or that something bad was about to happen. Perhaps Wylckik has a trap for Sheemer and the others so if I alert them, they'll all die in a matter of seconds.

"Just you and me Wolf." whispered Wylckik.

I felt like punching him in the mouth, or at least pouring some mouthwash down into his throat to get rid of his foul breath. But what the hell, we all got a foul odor on our breath, so it's no big deal. Wylckik began to slide the knife upward vertically. I responded by grabbing his throat to restrain his movement.

"Hey Wolf! Whatcha doing back there?"

"Jerkin' off in the bathroom. What the 'ell do you think?!!?"

"Geez, you don't gotta be so defensive…"

"You better take that knife out my viscera…" I warned Wylckik.

"I don't think so." he chuckled.

I grunted twice as he stomped on my foot and continued to guide the knife up my torso. Fuck it; I've survived getting shot in the head! This knife'll just be another flesh wound in my book! I punched Wylckik in the chin and let go of the knife. Before it got to my heart, I grabbed his tongue and started to pull it out with my bare hand. Wylckik let go of the knife and held his tongue, which allowed me to take the knife out my stomach and implant it into his. As I pulled out his tongue, I started to gut the werepyre like a fish, letting his intestines fall onto the floor and dissolve in its own acid. Wylckik dropped to the floor after his tongue came out and died.

"Hey Wolf! Are you--?"

The gang finally turned around to see that I had gutted Wylckik and was standing over his corpse.

"Yeah, this bloke's dead now."

**12:00 Midnight**

Sheemer and the rest of the Lycans returned to our Lycan HQ to be "rewarded" for our services.

"What do you want us to do with the bodies we bagged?" asked Chevsky.

"Depends. Couple Lycans in this clan I know want to hang Cruzite's body and burn it. And frankly, Wylckik's flesh could be sheared to make a tasty werepyre stew…" started Margost-Lyl.

His mouth suddenly started to water so I quickly tossed the gruff Lycan Wylckik's corpse. Who knows what goes on with these senior Lycans? I myself am a cannibal and by the way Margost was looking at us, he might be one too.

"You pups did a fine job today."

"Does that mean we can get a promotion?"

"I said you did a fine job Mossin. I didn't say you cured cancer."


	12. Gas Kaboom

**Chronicles of Drakmoon**

While Kingswerst and his senior Lycans plan on what to do on Mogloween, Wolf and his partners go see a demolition expert regarding a mission of sabotage.

**Chapter 7: Gas Kaboom**

"Okay, so tell me…why are we here again?" asked Shank.

"I told you already; this demolition bloke is supposed to hand us some powerful bombs. After that, we gotta plant the explosives at a vampire depot. I think Vitsnap is going to be pissed when he finds out his weapons warehouse has been blown to smithereens." I said.

"I know, but why did we go to _this _place specifically?" asked Sheemer.

"Why, somethin' wrong?"

"The floor on this elevator's…sticky…and brown."

"Yeah, and it stinks in here. Did you fart again Sheemer?" asked Shank.

"Sure, blame the guy whose breath smells like sewage waste! At least I'm not an expert when it comes to acidragon piss!!"

"I don't understand why you guys have any problem with the smell. 'Sides, you'll get used to it eventually."

"Wolf, you have nothing to worry about. You haven't bathed in soap and water for over 100 years. You're a pro when it comes to foul odors."

"Hey, it what Kingswerst wants, right? I mean, after you getting over the first week, not worrying about hygiene is relatively simple."

"True. I suppose that's why we have odorant right? All we gotta do is spritz some of that under our arms and there you go; stinky Lycan." said Sheemer.

"Speaking of smelly Lycans, aren't Stinky and some of the senior werewolves supposed to be planning something this Mogloween? I hear they're gonna deal some real damage against the vampires…"

"Guess we'll just 'ave to wait and see Shank."

The three of us stood there in silence, accompanied only by the sound of the elevator rumbling up to the demolition expert's floor. This guy Twilert happens to be one of the best bomb specialists this side of Drakmoon Forest. Apparently, he uses natural gases and experiments with them to try and see which types seem flammable and explosive. Twilert has this weird colon problem, IF, so his colon composes of methane and hydrogen-sulfide enriched gases, which are naturally passed through his rectum. Is this normal? No. Is it sanitary? No. But despite how foul and outlandish this seems, the bombs he makes from these gases are effective, even if some of them make a horrible odor after explosion. But c'mon…who doesn't like the smell of sulfur?

"All right, this is the top floor." said Sheemer.

"Great. If this is how dirty he keeps his elevator, I get the feeling he's gonna be disgusting in person." said Shank.

The metal doors hissed open and we walked into Twilert's chamber of bombs. I must say, this place is overwhelming! The last time I saw a stockpile of explosives of this size, it was back in London when I was hunting down a ruthless terrorist who was responsible for murdering several of my co-workers.

"Whoa, what the hell?!?" shouted Sheemer.

A large cloud of smoke appeared after a brief explosion and the air was filled with black air that made it hard for us to breathe. Shank started to cough violently and I could barely see. Suddenly, out came Twilert who was coughing violently with soot all over his clothes and face. Twilert is a fat brown creature that looked like a cross between a Dragon and an ogre. He's stout and his belly bulges over the beltline like a regular beer gut. He's wearing this tan or beige outfit that seems fit for a mechanic and the sleeves were rolled up to reveal his skin, which is covered in bumps. I'm not real sure what kind of creature Twilert is, but he's bald, has only four fingers and large, scaled feet that remind someone of a rhino. In fact, he was more reptile than mammal, despite his ogre-like appearance.

"Given fact: Lighting a fart after eating Thai peppers has explosive results."

"You're the explosive expert Kingswerst was talking about?" asked Sheemer.

"Yep. Nice to meet you!" said Twilert, extending his hand.

Sheemer shook his hand, but after he was done shaking up and down, he noticed something brown and sticky on his hand.

"Um…what's this?"

Twilert laughed meekly while scratching the back of his head and said, "I experiment with the components found in intestinal gases and…fecal matter. Guess I forgot to wash afterwards."

"No problem. I'll just wipe it behind Shank's ear."

"WHAT?!!?"

Sheemer pinned Shank to the ground and roughly wiped his hand behind his ear, coating it with a nice pile of shit. I couldn't help but chuckle at the two.

"You better hope I don't shank you when you're sleeping tonight!"

"What do I gotta be worried about? All I need is some good ole fashioned acidragon pee!"

"…What're you guys—?"

"Don't ask." I interrupted.

"Okay, so what type of bombs did you wolves have in mind?" asked Twilert.

"Somethin' with a blast radius big enough to destroy a warehouse."

"Ahh…so you wanna create a big bang, eh?"

"That's right."

Twilert sighed. "Well, it's gonna be hard to find the exact type of bomb you require."

"Why's that?" asked Shank.

"Like I said, my bombs are composed of intestinal gases and excrement from my own being. I've spent the last 40 years experimenting with different gases and piles of shit just to make all of these bombs."

"So let me get this straight: All these bombs have gas or piles of shit in them?" clarified Sheemer.

Twilert shrugged. "Pretty much, yeah."

"That's cool!"

"Don't you mean disgusting?" corrected Shank.

"For several generations, my family has been making a name for themselves by doing this type of work. After my great-great-great grandfather…or uncle found out that not only his flatulence was flammable, but explosive too, it started this demolition regime that's been going on for practically a millennium now."

"I don't follow. How can you make a fart explode?"

"Allow me to demonstrate."

Twilert lit and match and lowered it to the seat of his pants. He then grunted with effort before a raucous blast of flatulence burst out of his anus, creating a short stream of fire so it made it look like fire was shooting out of his ass.

"That's nothing. A goddamn termite could light its fart on fire if it was big enough to hold a match." said Shank.

"Clearly you haven't seen the mutant termites down at the Kartig Zoo. But you never let me finish my demonstration. Hand me one of those beakers over there."

Shank handed Twilert a beaker and he performed the same move once again, passing gas into the beaker and sealing the glass instrument with a large cork.

"Now most would think it's just a fart in a bottle, but when you add a pinch of gunpowder to it…"

Twilert took off the cork and sprinkled some gunpowder into the beaker. He placed the beaker on an empty box and lit the cork on fire, running behind a metal shelf.

"Hey, Twilert—"

"JUST HIDE!!"

The three of us hid behind the shelf Twilert was hiding behind and heard a tremendous explosion echo throughout the chamber, producing hot, foul air that made us cough.

"What the hell was that?!" asked Shank.

"The beaker. I told you my flatulence was explosive."

"Explosive? That bloody fart in a beaker might as well be considered C-4!!" I shouted.

"Exactly my point!"

"Wait a minute, you're saying all we gotta do is fart inside an sealed container, add a dash of gunpowder, light it on fire, and we've got a bomb?" asked Sheemer.

"Not quite. The whole thing is very complicated actually…"

"It's just gas; can't get more complicated than that."

"Yes it can. My species have unique stomachs with all sorts of juices and acids bubbling inside of them. My family, in particular suffers from irritable flatulence of irritable bowel syndrome so we decided to make use of our gas besides just annoying the townfolk. Depending on what we eat depends on how strong and/or explosive the gas is. As you've witnessed earlier, flatulence enriched with Thai pepper is extremely explosive and emits a humongous cloud of smoke. On the other hand, if I wait for the pepper components to digest over time, then the flatulence has the power of an ordinary hand grenade. Let's not forget that two of the major compounds of flatulence—hydrogen-sulfide and methane—are flammable. Add a little kick to that and you've got a bomb."

"How does your excrement make bombs?"

Twilert sighed. "That's a little more complicated. Um…we have to eat certain types of foods in order to produce explosive and/or flammable excrement. It also has to be fresh otherwise it will be rendered useless and we'll basically have shit our pants for no reason."

Back up; you shit your pants?

"…You shit your pants?" chuckled Shank.

"Shut the fuck up! It's all part of the bomb-making process! I know you're wondering why we don't collect the feces out the toilet or why we don't shit in a cup or wear a diaper even."

"Yes…you mind fillin' in the gaps for us?" I asked.

"If the excrement is exposed in the air for too long or gets too cold or wet, then it's useless. So one of my uncles got drunk one day and wound up crapping his pants. Not caring, he took a lighter and lit his derriere on fire. But instead…his pants exploded."

All of us laughed wildly until we fell down onto the floor thrashing our legs everywhere. I know it sounds immature and all, but when you hear someone getting injured cause they blew up their pants with their own pile of shit, you're gonna chuckle at least.

"I bet your uncle's got a metal arse now, don't he?!" I laughed.

"No, the explosion killed him."

"Damn. He must've had powerful poop in his trousers." said Sheemer.

Twilert's stomach grumbled and he patted his belly, letting out another loud fart.

"Let's have a live demonstration, shall we?"

"We'll take your word for it. You don't have to—"

Before Sheemer could finish, Twilert was grunting profusely and passing gas like a camel, filling the air with the stench of hydrogen-sulfide.

"I ate half a pound of sharp cheddar cheese and several prunes and eggplant. Let's see what comes out."

"I really don't think you should—"

Before I could finish, loud squishy flatulence was heard and Twilert was sighing heavily, wafting the heat away from his hindquarters. At first, I thought his pants were turning brown but now I see that both his pants and his shirt were brown. Hmm…maybe he tried using his shirt as a diaper once…

"And now,"

Twilert dug into his pants and pulled out a giant glob of poo, lighting it on fire.

"We wait."

All of us stared at the bubbling pile of excrement, shielding our faces in case the pile suddenly blew up like the gas. But surprisingly, nothing happened.

"Shit! It's not volatile…" said Twilert, dejectedly.

"Great. You just shit your pants for nothing. Now can you just give us some bombs before I vomit all over myself?!" pleaded Shank.

"Sure, why not? I guess a couple of Fire Boo-Boos should do it."

Twilert walked behind a shelf and tossed Sheemer two bombs roughly the size of a PS3. They were dark red and had a tiny blue triggering mechanism. There was a little slot on the side and on the bottom were four wires.

"So how do we arm it?"

"Easy. Just connect the blue wire with the white wire and slide it through the slot. After that, flip the switch and the timer's set. Just don't be too close to the bomb when it goes off."

"Why?"

"It'll give off a horrible smell for one and the aftermath of the explosion will be very messy."

All of us stared at Twilert, unsure of what he meant by the comment.

"You'll see."

"…"

"Anyway nice meeting you guys! I'm gonna go do some more experimenting in the bathroom."

* * *

Sheemer, Shank and I were descending down from Twilert's floor in the elevator.

"You can throw up now."

Shank leaned over and vomited in a corner of the elevator.

**Back at the Lycan HQ…**

Some of the senior Lycans, including Kingswerst, were resting inside the several muddy Jacuzzis trying to form up a plan to strike back at their opposing forces. So far, nobody had any bright ideas.

"Sir I suggest that we take our anger back onto Howlblane and his rats with wings. They've already halted many of our operations by destroying one of our cities so perhaps we should do the same." suggested Margost-Lyl.

"No."

"But why can't we—"

"Because that's exactly what Howlblane expects us to do right now. We will get revenge on the flying canine; just not now. Frankly…we need take over more territory and provide more space for recruiting Lycans."

"What area do you think we should take over? There's thousands of unoccupied pieces of land on this planet."

"I for one think were should recruit some FireWeres in case a clan of ice dragons decided to assault our HQ. Besides, most of them aren't located far away from this base in the first place." said Hrhimvoc-Svilt.

"Svilt, the last time we recruited FireWeres they went crazy at the first sight of fire. They almost burned down the fortress."

"Yeah, and their breath smells so rotten and is so hot that it could burn the fur off my back."

The Lycans stopped talking when a loud splash was heard and some of them had mud splattered on their faces. Stinky had jumped into the Jacuzzi while eating weird pink goo out of a jar.

"So what are we talkin' about here?" he asked, stuffing a large glob into his mouth.

"What to do on Mogloween—what's that you're eating?" asked Camel-Tail.

"Toe jam. Want some?" said Stinky, offering the other Lycans the jar.

"…No…"

"I'll take some!" said Toe-Jam, snatching the jar away and burying his head inside.

"…So we all agree that this Mogloween we should take over more territory and gain more recruits?" asked Kingswerst.

"Sounds good to me." said Hrhimvoc-Svilt.

"I like it." said Camel-Tail.

Suddenly Chevsky appeared from the atrium of the building and opened the door to the spa, jumping inside and sitting next to Kingswerst.

"What's up?" he asked casually.

Margost-Lyl growled under his throat and started to approach the rookie werewolf.

"I though I was clear when I said this spa is only for seniors!!" said Margost, ready to tear Chevsky's head off.

"Hey, if Chevsky wants to hop inside the Jacuzzi, he can. Is it comforting?" asked Kingswerst.

Chevsky got into a laid-back position and sighed with glee, exposing his feet and toes on the rim of the mud.

"It's wonderful. I don't see why you only let senior Lycans back here!"

"Some of the other Lycans can't tolerate the smell…"

Chevsky's ear twitched. "What?"

"UUURRRRRRRPPPP!!!" belched Stinky.

"UGH!! Have you been chewing on your toes?!"

"Nope. Just eating toe jam."

"Well I think I can handle Stinky and his foul breath for now."

"That's not the smell I was talking about."

"…I don't get it."

Stinky grunted and a bunch of bubbles started to rise to the surface and pop while Stinky was giggling evilly. Chevsky sniffed the air a few times and that's when he caught wind of Stinky's flatulence.

"Big deal. Mossin farts in his sleep all the time and I can deal with that."

Suddenly all of the werewolves in the Jacuzzi grunted and began to pass gas vigorously, getting to the point where the sound of it was audible. All of them were smiling devilishly and chuckling under their breath while Chevsky was plugging his nose.

"THAT'S DISGUSTING!!!"

"Thank you." said Camel-Tail.

"Hey, maybe he wants a close-up view of the smell!!" laughed Hrhimvoc-Svilt.

"What?! No I don't!"

Hrhimvoc-Svilt shoved Chevsky's head into the pool of mud and farted on his nose, laughing while Chevsky was too busy trying to escape Svilt's grimy paws.

"He's not gonna drown, is he?"

"No, keep talking."

"Well, couldn't we think up more—?" started Toe-Jam.

"No. Now all we have to do is devise a plan of which areas to conquer and how to take over those lands. Make sure all of you start brainstorming for the next two days."

"You got it boss." said Margost.

Hrhimvoc-Svilt let go of Chevsky's head and noticed he was still under the mud.

"He's not dead, right?" asked Toe-Jam.

"Nope. Just unconscious."

"Hey, it's not like I didn't warn the little maggot." said Margost.


End file.
